T'Amona
by PrincessNala
Summary: It was almost as though her life depended on it. All her problems, her pain, meant nothing in comparison. What she truly wanted was to exist, and without them, she never could. Eventual K/S. Rating may change for adult situations
1. Chapter 1

**Ever since falling in love with this movie, I've really wanted to do a fanfiction for it. And since I seem to be the Queen of OCs at the moment, I just had to throw another one of my own creations into the world of Star Trek! ^^**

**I'm a major Kirk/Spock shipper at heart, so this isn't gonna be the typical scenario where the OC gets the guy. Instead, she's gonna help the guy get the guy! XD **

**I really dont like Spock/Uhura, but I think I need it to begin with. So it'll start off like that, but it will eventually be K/S.**

**And the timeline of this is pretty much set with a little bit before the film, a really tiny bit during the film and the rest of it after the film.**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Star Trek, Spock and Kirk would've been together in the first five minutes of meeting each other. But, sadly, life's a bitch, and I don't own squat except my own OCs and the plot. Dammit.**

**Please read on and review for me! :D Thanks.**

**On with the prologue...**

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**Star date: 2387**

**Location: Vulcan.**

Rich brown eyes stared sadly out across the red landscape of the planet that was Vulcan, trying to memorise the home he may never see again. If proceedings didn't go according to plan on his mission, and the aged Vulcan knew that things could indeed turn _very_ bad, _very_ quickly, this could be the last chance he ever had to enjoy the beauty of this desert planet.

As old as he was, he was thankful that his hearing had not deteriorated over time, and sure enough he could hear the rhythmical crunching of footsteps approaching him from behind.

"Are you ready to depart, Ambassador Spock?"

The Ambassador held back a heavy sigh and turned his back on the view, facing three of his fellow Vulcan elders who had come to a halt and were now surveying him steadily with their emotionless yet intelligent brown eyes. He easily arranged his features to mirror their own stoic expressions. He had had years of practice at it, after all. Repressing his human side came so effortlessly to him in the presence of the elders.

"Indeed." He answered with a single stiff nod. Truth to be told, Ambassador Spock was far from ready to depart. But he knew he had to. It was his duty to the Vulcan race.

The taller and oldest of the three stepped forwards, his eyes impossibly hard, even by Vulcan standards. And Spock understood why. Childhood had hardly been easy for a Vulcan/Human hybrid such as himself, especially when pureblood Vulcans such as the one before him had made it their personal goal to make his life a living hell.

"This mission is of the utmost importance. It is only a matter of time until the supernova that threatens the galaxy draws near enough to threaten our own existence. It is imperative that you transport the red matter to destroy it before it overwhelms many more planets than the countless it already has. At present the supernova is in the immediate vicinity of the planet Romulus. You must make haste, Ambassador Spock."

"I am aware of the magnitude of this voyage, hence why I volunteered myself as pilot." Ambassador Spock replied, barely suppressing the sardonic tone from his otherwise even voice. If the opposing Vulcan had been a half-breed like himself, anger would have undoubtedly flared in his eyes. But, as a true pureblood, he remained as impassive as ever.

"And I am also aware that timing is crucial. So I will, as you say, make haste."

Without another word, the Ambassador set off in a brisk walk towards his intended ship, the elders falling into step behind him. The red matter had been loaded into the cargo less than twenty minutes ago, and now that final preparations were complete, the ship was primed for departure.

Ambassador Spock made his way up the sleek metal walkway, his withered hand falling to rest against the doorway as he stole one final look over his shoulder at the home he was about to leave behind. He had already said all of his farewells. Well… not _all_ of them.

"Ambassador Spock!" came a shout from a good few metres away, almost as though fate itself had heard his thoughts and intervened. All four elderly Vulcan heads turned in unison towards the disturbance, and Spock could not hold back the strange mixture of surprise and delight as it spread through his chest.

A familiar slight and unmistakeably female figure was striding hurriedly towards them, a long mane of ebony hair whipping back from a youthful Vulcan face that was set in a very un-Vulcan expression of furious determination. The long black robes she wore swirled majestically around her legs as she walked, and her delicate hands were clenched into tight fists by her sides. Ambassador Spock chuckled softly. She looked absolutely murderous. And with good reason.

"Ah, T'Amona." Spock greeted with a small smile that he made no effort to restrain, "What brings you here?"

The dark glare she shot back practically screamed _'Don't you play coy with me, old man.'_ She opened her mouth, fully intending to say the words out loud, but caught herself as she remembered their present company. Quickly, her features froze into a typical unemotional state that looked so out of place on her pretty face. As adept as she was at controlling her emotions, her eyes sparked with life that just outright refused to be dampened by Vulcan etiquette.

"Ambassador, please." T'Amona spoke, a pleading undertone to her soft voice that did not pass unnoticed by any of the elders. "I implore you to see reason. This is too dangerous for someone of your high standing…"

"It is my duty, T'Amona. You should know better than to question that." The Ambassador interrupted gently. T'Amona's tapered eyebrows furrowed slightly as she frowned up at him.

"I'm not _questioning_ it. I just don't agree with it." She said, and Spock's lips twitched with amusement. He sobered abruptly when he noticed out of the corner of his eye the three elders exchanging pointed glances, the infinitesimal tightening of the corners of their eyes and lips the only sign of their irritation. Just like Spock had been himself in his youth, T'Amona too was a shunned individual. Possibly even more so, because not only did she not fit in, but she was also rather apt at landing herself in hot water with the elders. On numerous occasions. Ambassador Spock knew that the elders' tolerance of her was wearing incredibly thin, and with him leaving the planet, he dread to think what havoc she would undoubtedly cause, and how she would manage to get out of it without his help. This almost made him reconsider his volunteering for this mission, but it was too late now.

"I think they should send someone else. Someone far less valuable." T'Amona continued, her eyes fixed straight on the Ambassador's. She knew what the elders thought of her, and she tried her hardest to ignore it. Spock understood how much it upset her, but she never let it show and always hid it beautifully beneath a hard façade that made the young Vulcan girl appear colder than she really was.

Evidently, T'Amona's last comment was enough to make the elders voice their displeasure. She had a remarkable talent for that. One of her many genetic gifts from her mother.

"And whom do you suggest we send, child?" One demanded, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly in her direction. T'Amona's chin tilted upwards in defiance and her jaw clenched as she turned to stare up at the elders, and the Ambassador instinctively understood that she was about to respond with something that would only serve to further irritate the aged purebloods bearing down on her.

"T'Amona." He said softly, diverting her attention back to him. Spock made his way back down the walkway with natural easy grace, inclining his head a little away from the elders. "A word, if you please."

Pressing her lips into a tight line, she nodded curtly and followed him as he walked away from the ship. When they were out of immediate earshot of the elders, Ambassador Spock stopped and turned to face the young woman, his features stern.

"T'Amona, you should know better by now." He chastised. T'Amona blinked up at him innocently as she tilted her head inquiringly in apparent confusion.

"I don't understand. My logic is sound, Ambassador." She said smoothly, but that familiar impish gleam in those wide and wonderful eyes of hers gave her away. Her mother's eyes. Spock's own deep brown orbs softened as he stared down at her.

"I am not referring to your logic." He smiled tenderly, then sobered once more. "You should not antagonise the elders so. They will only endure so much, T'Amona, and without me to defend you, they will not be so lenient."

T'Amona snorted derisively, tossing her head of sleek black hair over her shoulder.

"They aren't exactly lenient now, Ambassador." She pointed out dryly. Once again, her logic was sound.

"Which is exactly why I want you to promise me you will not be a nuisance to them in my absence." Spock said, his expression sincere.

T'Amona's grin was so devious that the Ambassador wondered how her Vulcan features allowed her to pull it off so effectively.

"Where's the fun in that?" She laughed, but hastily fell silent at the sight of the dark look that flickered across his lined face. It was a look that he had inherited from his own father, Sarek. And he considered it to be an extremely valuable talent. Naturally it had been used frequently over time. Some times more than others.

"Oh, fine. I promise I won't annoy the elders." She intoned, her bottom lip jutting out as she pouted at him. She muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like _'Spoilsport'_, but the Ambassador feigned ignorance.

The three elders were observing them from afar like hawks as they talked amongst themselves. It was obvious which two Vulcans were the subject of their discussion, but Ambassador Spock merely turned his back to them, standing beside T'Amona as they stared out onto the horizon.

"It's beautiful, isn't it." T'Amona murmured wistfully. Spock nodded slowly in agreement.

"Impossibly so." He replied. His gaze swept across the distance, over the rich reddish crust of earth that blanketed the entire planet. Regal mountains reached up towards the sky, and the sun beat mercilessly down to the ground, the heat far more intense than any human could bear to withstand for so long. Ambassador Spock sighed again and turned his head towards T'Amona, only to find she was already staring straight at him, her eyes moist and pleading.

"Please don't go." She whispered, and Spock felt sure that the sentence had just split his heart in half. It was not physically possible for the organ in his side to crack like ice, but that was the only way to describe how his body responded to the young woman's hushed words.

"You know I must."

"But I _need_ you here." T'Amona cried, her voice hitching in her throat. Ambassador Spock frowned sadly and reached out, resting his hands on her slim shoulders. A halo of gold encircled the crown of her onyx head from where the sun blazed from above as she kept her eyes fixed firmly on the ground at her feet, refusing to meet his eyes. Gently, her took her chin in his hand and lifted her head up. Slick trails glittered on the greenish hue of her alien skin and her eyes brimmed, threatening to spill more tears down her cheeks.

"The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few." Spock murmured soothingly, wiping the moisture from her face with the sleeve of his elegant Vulcan robes. "Or the one."

Ambassador Spock opened his arms out to her and she instantly stepped into his embrace, hugging him so tightly he feared his ribs would break. Although Vulcans disliked physical interaction, Spock understood that T'Amona needed comforting and wrapped his arms loosely around her smaller body, his chin resting atop of her silky ebony tresses as she wept into his chest. Spock resisted the urge to glance back over his shoulder at the elders, wondering if they had keeled over and died of shock at the sight before them.

It only took a few short moments for T'Amona to regain her composure and she swiftly stepped back from Ambassador Spock, rubbing her red-rimmed eyes hard with the back of her hands. She was embarrassed about breaking down in front of him. Self-control was fiercely crucial to T'Amona. It needed to be, if she wished to remain indifferent to all the discrimination towards her. Many similar-aged Vulcans enjoyed the pastime of trying to evoke an emotional response from her. Just like the Vulcan children of Spock's own generation had taken pleasure in doing the same to him. T'Amona hadn't lost control and lashed out _yet_, but her eyes gave away her inner turmoil. Her eyes always gave her away.

"Where is your mother?" Spock asked her. T'Amona's features had returned to a stoic mask of indifference, as they always did when she hid her true feelings from everyone around her. It always saddened the Ambassador to see her like this.

"At home. Asleep, the last time I checked." She answered, her voice as devoid of emotion as her expression. Then something occurred to her and her eyes widened before narrowing again as she glared up at him.

"Did you actually intended to say goodbye to me before you left? If I hadn't caught T'Pring when I walked past her house, I wouldn't have found out you were here until it was too late. Why didn't you tell me?"

Spock had never been good at saying farewell. That had been a problem for him throughout his entire life. And now this determined young woman stood before him, her eyes practically burning holes through his own, he found himself as he always did internally cursing his inability when parting company.

He opened his mouth to respond, but he was interrupted before the words could leave his lips.

"Ambassador Spock." An elder spoke, his deep voice carrying easily across the short distance between them. Spock turned his head inquiringly and had to bite back the smile that threatened to curve his lips. To the untrained eye, the three aged Vulcans appeared as unemotional as ever, but Spock could see that their patience had reached its end and they were now more fractious than before.

With a nod of acknowledgement, the Ambassador made his way back towards them, motioning for T'Amona to follow. Spock passed the elders and headed back up the walkway for the second time. T'Amona remained on the ground with the three Vulcans and Ambassador Spock once again began to rethink his decision. As he himself had pointed out, the elders would only endure so much more of T'Amona's aggravation. He could only pray that the young woman intended to keep her promise.

T'Amona flashed him a quick smile and raised her hand, her fingers spread in a Vulcan salute.

"Live long and prosper, Ambassador." She said, her gesture mirrored somewhat sourly by the elders that stood behind her. Not wanting to delay his departure any longer, the Ambassador returned the salute and entered his small ship, the door silently sealing itself behind him.

T'Amona's hand dropped back down to her side as she watched the Ambassador settle himself into the single pilot's chair, his withered hands deftly working the controls. She bit her bottom lip nervously, trying to ignore the growing feeling in her gut that this may be the last time she ever saw Ambassador Spock. She knew he was right. About annoying the elders, that is. She couldn't help it. She wasn't like them. Her emotions ran freely despite how hard she tried to repress them in Vulcan company. She was just as intelligent as anyone else on the planet, yet they constantly made her feel inadequate. Every Vulcan except Ambassador Spock. He understood what she was going through, because he went through it too. He had the grudging respect of his peers now he was the Ambassador, and T'Amona had made it her personal goal to achieve the same in the not too distant future.

The small spacecraft surged to life and gently lifted off from the ground, sending red dust spiralling for freedom, shrouding the four Vulcans watching the take-off. T'Amona briefly shielded her eyes with her arm until the dust settled and she stared after the sleek silver shuttle as it darted up into the sky, disappearing swiftly from sight in seconds.

'_Be safe, Ambassador Spock.'_ She thought. She kept her gaze fixed on the place where his ship had vanished from view for a few moments longer before she let out the shaky breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding and turned around to walk away.

Only she never got that far. Three elderly faces that could have been carved from stone came into sharp focus and T'Amona instinctively took a step back, nearly tripping over her own feet in her haste. Luckily her natural Vulcan grace and sense of balance prevented her from landing painfully on her backside in the dust.

"We warn you now, child. We will tolerate no more of your blatant disrespect for Vulcan traditions and behaviour." The one in the middle said as they stared down at her from where they towered above by a good six inches. Being one of the smallest Vulcans on the planet usually had its downsides, as it did right now. T'Amona felt icy claws of fear grip her spine, but she refused to let it show on her face. She steeled her jaw and glared boldly back at them, her hands clenched so tightly into fists that her knuckles turned stark pearly white.

"Forgive me, elders, but I fail to see what I have done to displease you." T'Amona responded coldly, the strong Terran urge to swing her fist into the statuesque features of all three Vulcans opposing her increased as her fury escalated.

The eldest leaned forwards, an almost unnoticeable twinkle of vindictive pleasure in his brown eyes.

"Your existence displeases us, child." He told her. T'Amona's head jerked as though he had physically reached out and slapped her. A vicious jolt of absolute despair speared her heart like a heated blade, and she couldn't prevent the emotion from stealing across her face, visible for all to see. A single tear dripped from the thick black lashes of one wide eye, and three pairs of eerily similar intense brown orbs watched the liquid that was so unfamiliar to them as it made slick progress down her face.

Satisfied, the elder straightened up, the corner of his lips quirking almost imperceptibly at how much pain his words had caused her.

"You are not one of us, child. You never have been, and you never will be. Not even Ambassador Spock can change that. You will always be an outcast because of the impure blood that runs through your veins. You are not worthy to bear the title of Vulcan."

With that final parting shot of thinly-veiled spite, the three elders turned on their heels and proceeding to walk away without a backwards glance. T'Amona's knees shook and she didn't protest as they gave way and she sank to the dusty red earth, her trembling fists resting on her thighs as the floodgates opened and tears ran thick and fast down her face for the second time that day.

She had known it all along, but hearing the words spoken aloud to her made the dejection even more unbearable than it already was. She wasn't wanted here. She never had been. The only people who truly cared for her here were Ambassador Spock and her mother. And now the Ambassador had left the planet to carry out a mission of vital importance, and her mother fit in with the Vulcans no more than she did. No one would dare say anything to her mother, just for being exactly who her mother was. But the daughter, on the other hand… Oh, they were more than willing to alienate her. It was practically sport to them.

T'Amona sniffed despondently, brushing her long hair back with one hand as she raised her face to the sky, her head feeling heavier on her neck than it should have. The trail that marked the Ambassador's ascent through the atmosphere was still visible, and she followed it slowly with her eyes. Tears that streaked her face dried swiftly in the heat, and her eyes turned so hard that it looked like they had frozen into twin shards of ice in her skull. A sudden ferocious determination spread through her limbs like flames, driving her back to her feet.

'_I'll show those pointy-eared bastards!'_ She growled to herself, conveniently overlooking the fact that her ears were as pointy as theirs. T'Amona scanned the area around her and it took less than a second to find what she was looking for, causing her to bare her teeth in a wide triumphant grin that seemed closer to a predatory snarl than a grin.

"I think it's about time this 'outcast' did something to _really_ displease you…"

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**Like it? Drop me a review and let me know what you think.**

**But be gentle, this is my first time writing Star Trek and trying to write in Spock-Speak damn near kills me :( Well, it's actually Spock Prime-Speak, but whatever. Same difference. ;p**

**See ya next time!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Well, this is probably one of the longest chapters I've ever done. And without a doubt the most confusing ^^;**

**Just thrown another bunch of OCs in here, just because I can XD**

**This chapter probably doesnt make that much sense this early on, but it'll be explained later on.**

**But for now, just read on and review for me please!**

**Onwards...**

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**Star date: 2258**

**Location: Earth**

A dull pain thudded steadily through her head, keeping in perfect time with every beat of her heart. Her eyelids fluttered twice before opening fully, and she found herself laid in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room, staring up at the ceiling. She tried to sit up, but the injuries that littered her small frame made her body scream in agonised protest and she fell heavily back down onto the soft mattress.

When she opened her eyes again, she realised she must've blacked out for a few moments because a blurry pair of dark brown eyes that hadn't been there before were now staring down at her. Recognition dawned instantly and a weak smile spread across her face.

"Spock…" She rasped, her voice burning her throat from lack of use. But she didn't care. She'd escaped, and she'd found him. That's all that mattered now. _Ambassador Spock…_

The eyes widened in confusion, then moved closer as their owner leaned forwards.

"Who's Spock?" A youthful voice asked. T'Amona frowned, blinking a few times to clear her vision. The eyes were indeed a rich chocolate colour, but a few shades lighter than the ones she knew. A face came into view, an obviously Terran child's pinkish skin with a smattering of freckles dusted across the nose and cheeks. Messy dark blond hair covered his scalp, stray tendrils hanging low in front of his eyes.

"Who are you, alien girl?" The human boy inquired, reaching out with one hand to touch the tip of T'Amona's pointed ears. T'Amona flinched and surged backwards to get away from his outstretched fingers, ignoring the overwhelming pain that wracked her body from the movement. The child stopped, frowning uncertainly.

"What's wrong? I'm not going to hurt you; I just wanted to touch your ears. They're so weird…"

He reached out again and this time T'Amona seized hold of his slim wrist, gripping tight enough for the boy to wince in discomfort. With her Vulcan strength she could easily snap the bone like a twig, so she was careful to hold back enough to make sure she didn't break his skinny arm.

"Don't touch me, Terran." She hissed with more panic than fury. The child's eyes had widened again, only this time in fear that the alien girl with weird ears might not be as delicate and harmless as she appeared. Hating seeing that look in his eyes, T'Amona averted her gaze from the boy, suddenly noticing that her hands were wrapped up tightly in bandages, only the pale green-tinted skin of her fingertips showing. Bile rose swiftly in her throat as she remembered exactly what had happened to her hands that made them need to be bandaged, and she released her grasp on the boy's arm to grab her stomach as it lurched.

"Don't throw up!" The boy cried out in alarm, stepping swiftly back out of projectile vomit range. T'Amona very nearly rolled her eyes at him in a very un-Vulcan way. Not that she was _worthy_ of the Vulcan way, as some certain senile old bastards had _so delicately_ pointed out… But that seemed like a lifetime ago. Although that didn't stop it from hurting her now just as much as it had done back on Vulcan.

"I won't." She assured him when her stomach settled. The boy looked relieved, but then he narrowed his eyes at her as though something had just occurred to him.

"And my name _isn't_ Terran. I'm Damien." He pointed out, his chest thrust outwards proudly. T'Amona resisted the urge to swat the smartass child upside the head.

"I know your name isn't Terran. That's your race, moron." She sighed, and then mentally winced as she replayed her own words in her mind. Gods, she was even starting to talk like them now. As if she couldn't insult the impure blood that ran through her veins any more than she already had.

Damien's freckled cheeks flushed red and he glared at the pointy-eared alien girl laid on the bed before him. T'Amona guessed it was actually _his_ bed she was laid on, judging by the small planets and spaceships that decorated the typically boyish dark blue pillows and quilt.

"I knew that." He insisted, his chin jutting out in defiance. T'Amona felt the corners of her lips quirk and a single tapered eyebrow lift slightly in amusement.

"So what's your name then, alien girl?" Damien said, not so subtly changing the subject.

"T'Amona."

"Tah Moaner?"

This time she couldn't hold back the eyeroll as she spelt her name out for him.

Damien mouthed the name a few times, then fell silent for a moment, his expression thoughtful.

"That's not a normal name." He spoke suddenly. T'Amona brushed her long tresses of pure black onyx back from her face, pointedly avoiding looking at her hands.

"I never said it was."

"You're not Terran, are you?"

"Well done." T'Amona deadpanned. The sarcasm didn't pass unnoticed by the young boy, and he scowled in response, sticking his tongue out at her in that obnoxious way that only children of all species and races under the age of ten could pull off so successfully.

"So what are you?"

"I'm Vulcan." '_Well, part of me is, anyway…'_

"I've no idea what a Vulcan is. I'll ask my mom later. I'd ask you to tell me all about Vulcans now, but my mom told me not to disturb you."

'_And yet you disturbed me anyway.'_ T'Amona thought wryly. Although that wasn't entirely true. He hadn't woken her up, and she supposed it was only natural for Terran children to play with whatever new toy was tossed their way. Damien was only curious, after all. An annoying smartass little brat, true, but curious. It was just her bad luck that she happened to be the new toy in question.

"Mom said you needed to recover. You were pretty messed up when we found you on our doorstep. What happened?"

T'Amona shut her eyes, casting her mind back. Her memory was dark and blurred, pain transferring through and blocking out most of the sight. She remembered gripping the controls of a small shuttle in her wounded hands… crash-landing into a hillside of lush green grass and rich brown soil… twisted metal all around her as she crawled from the wreckage… limping towards a lone house on the horizon, about a mile away… collapsing against the door, pounding at the solid wood with the last of her strength as she sunk to the dirt at her feet… everything fading to black…

And then waking to find herself somewhere unknown, bandaged and aching, with no-one but some obnoxious human kid for company. T'Amona's tapered eyebrows furrowed slightly in irritation before her eyes flickered open again.

"I don't remember." She lied smoothly, internally wincing as she did so. It was better to tell the boy that rather than the truth. It was a long story, and one that she didn't ever want to relive again as long as she breathed.

Damien looked disappointed at this, but thankfully he decided to drop it. T'Amona braced her arms on the mattress and tried to heave herself to her feet, but the room spun alarmingly and her weak legs struggled to hold her weight. She would've hurtled headfirst down onto the carpet if two small but surprisingly strong hands hadn't grabbed hold of her around the waist and steadied her until she regained some of her balance.

"I told you not to touch me." T'Amona ground out through teeth gritted against the unbearable sting of her wounds. Damien's hands tightened around her slim midriff and his head came into view from under her arm.

"It was either that or I let you fall and break your neck, alien girl." He growled in annoyance. T'Amona decided not to answer, fully aware that she was leaning against the boy for support. And it was then, as she glanced down at the shorter youth keeping her upright, that she suddenly realised that her traditional Vulcan robes had been replaced with an oversized black shirt that practically smothered her slight frame. But even though the shirt was many sizes too big, the hem only just ended a little past mid-thigh, and T'Amona had never felt so naked in her entire life.

'_If the elders could see me now,'_ She thought, fighting to keep the green flush of embarrassment from tingeing her cheeks, _'They'd probably have a heart attack or something.'_

"Where are my clothes?" T'Amona directed the question downwards to the boy whose arms were still clamped securely around her waist to prevent any chance of her taking another nosedive to the carpet. Her voice came out a little less composed than she would've liked, but apparently Damien didn't notice.

"Over there." He replied, removing one arm from her to point to a neatly folded pile of black material on the seat of a small mahogany chair by the foot of the bed. T'Amona nodded her thanks, and then paused expectantly for a moment. Neither of them moved. Obviously Damien hadn't got the message.

A few more beats of silence passed before T'Amona let an impatient noise leave her lips, and the clueless kid blinked up at her, frowning in confusion. The Vulcan girl stared coolly straight back at the Terran boy, raising a single eyebrow pointedly.

"What?" He demanded indignantly, but T'Amona didn't need to answer because comprehension suddenly dawned. "_Oh…_ Well, why didn't you just say so?!"

Damien's expression was one of complete annoyance as he stomped off towards the door, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his faded jeans as he muttered under his breath about _'stupid Vulcan prudes'_ and _'How was I supposed to know? I'm not a goddamn mind reader'_. The kid didn't realise just how lucky he was as he shut the door behind him, because T'Amona had been literally a second away from seizing hold of the first thing that came to hand and throwing it so hard at the irritating Terran brat that it would've undoubtedly separated his head from his shoulders.

Now that she was alone, T'Amona turned her back to the door and reached across the bed for her clothes. She knew that when she'd first arrived here, her high-necked, long-sleeved, floor-length robes had been torn in many places, splattered with blood, dirt and who knows what else. But now as she picked them up and unfolded them in her arms, she noticed that they looked as good as new. Better than new, even. Someone had washed and repaired her clothes for her while she'd been unconscious. That same someone who had also taken the damaged Vulcan stranger into their home, tended to her injuries and let her recover in one of their beds. T'Amona realised she had a lot of thanking to do to that someone. Unable to resist, T'Amona pressed her face into the fabric of her robes, breathing in and losing herself to the wonderful soothing scent of honeysuckle.

The unmistakable sound of a small fist pounding against solid oak on the other side of the door tore her swiftly back to reality, and she couldn't stop herself from glaring over at the door, even though she knew Damien couldn't see her through the wood.

"Are you done yet, alien girl?" He whined, giving one last thump to the door for good measure. T'Amona muttered a curse in Vulcan under her breath as she pulled the too-big t-shirt up and over her head, wobbling a little on her unsteady legs.

"No, I'm not." T'Amona responded sharply, thinking that if that kid opened the door right now when she was half-in, half-out of her clothes, she'd kick his scrawny ass straight into next year. And that wasn't just an empty threat either.

As she stepped into her robes, T'Amona noticed that her torso was also wrapped up tight in bandages, which meant that the deep wound that marred her back had been tended to as well as her hands. She was grateful for this, but she couldn't help feeling slightly nauseous at the fact that someone had actually _seen_ her injuries. She'd been trying so hard to deny their existence from the moment she'd received them, but now somebody knew about them, it made it so much harder to hide them beneath the naïve little lies she'd been intending to tell.

"Vulcans can't lie, remember?" T'Amona whispered to herself, a spike of anger jolting through her chest as her nimble fingers worked the clasps of her clothing. "You're just proving those bastards right…"

Her fingertips brushed against the soft skin of her neck as she fastened the last few clasps. Her throat still burned horribly, and felt tender to the touch. And no wonder, thanks to the necklace of inky black bruises that encircled it. Luckily her clothing was high-necked enough to hide them from view, and the rest of her robes did an excellent job of concealing everything else, injured or not, beneath the folds of ebony material.

"I'm ready now." T'Amona called to the child sulking out in the hallway, and she smoothed the silky material of her long skirt with both hands as the door opened and Damien re-entered the room.

He narrowed his eyes as he cast his gaze over her whole body, starting from her feet and working upwards with a slight scowl on his youthful face as he took in her whole appearance.

"You look weird." He stated. Apparently the boy wasn't old enough to fully understand the wondrous skill that was _tact_.

"Thank you." T'Amona responded acidly, sweeping her long hair back over her shoulder in one fluidly graceful motion. Damien gave her another unnecessary look of appraisal and she noticed how his chocolate-coloured orbs lingered on her hands. Feeling strangely self-conscious, T'Amona tugged her sleeves down a little further to hide more of the bandages from his prying eyes, keeping her features as stoic as she could. Damien's frown deepened momentarily, then his brow cleared and he shrugged indifferently as though he couldn't care less.

"Those clothes make you look weird. You'd look pretty in jeans, I think." He continued, gesturing to her robes with distaste. Both of T'Amona's eyebrows rose up this time as she shot him a glare so cold that the young Terran actually took a hasty step backwards with his palms splayed out towards her in surrender.

"N-not that you aren't pretty now or anything!" He backtracked quickly, his brown eyes flashing with panic. "Because you are. Pretty, I mean. Well, for an alien, anyway."

T'Amona's glare grew colder still.

"Ok, ok! I'm sorry! You look great, all scary and sinister and just… just great." Damien beamed up at her hopefully, tugging nervously at a lock of his dark blond hair. T'Amona stared at him in silence for a while, watching him fidget under the intensity of her gaze. Eventually her features softened and her lips curled into a small smile.

"Thank you." She repeated, only this time the tone of her voice was lighter and could've almost been triumphant. Damien scowled and looked as though he was about to say something else, but obviously thought better of it and closed his mouth.

T'Amona's smile was now closer to a smirk than a smile.

"Where are your parents, kid?" T'Amona asked as the thought suddenly occurred to her. She still had her gratitude to give for their hospitality. Damien bristled a little at being called 'kid', much to T'Amona's amusement, but he jerked his thumb over his shoulder back towards the doorway.

"Mom and dad are in the front room. They were arguing about you when I came in here to check on you, so I bet they're still at it now."

T'Amona blinked, inclining her head at him in confusion.

"Arguing about me?"

"Yeah," Damien nodded, grimacing slightly. "They're sort of… well, you'll find out when we get there."

The kid turned to go, glancing back at T'Amona to see if she was following him. Swallowing thickly, T'Amona tested her weight on her legs and made to step forwards but her knees once again caved, and once again Damien had to rush to grab her before she fell.

"Why can't I walk?!" T'Amona snarled angrily at herself as she clutched at Damien like a lifeline. Damien's hands held her securely by the waist as they had done before, and she felt him shrug against her arm.

"Mom said you'll be weak for a while until you're well enough to move around on your own. She said you should stay in bed for as long as possible, but somehow I don't think you will. Do you want me to help you, or am I still not allowed to touch you?"

"I'd… appreciate your help, Damien." T'Amona replied, putting her arm around his shoulder to lean on him. Damien smiled up at her, a wide genuine smile that made unexpected warmth build up a little in her chest as they made their way slowly but surely towards the door.

"_They're sort of… well, you'll find out when we get there."_

That hadn't sounded very optimistic to T'Amona from the very second the words had left the boy's mouth, but she let him patiently lead her through the door, across a hallway and down a staircase. T'Amona was curious as to her whereabouts, and she'd intended to take in as much of her surroundings as she possibly could, but she couldn't concentrate on anything other than how much pain she was in. Her legs trembled uncontrollably beneath her and her hands throbbed beneath their bandages. Her back felt like a hundred heated blades had been stabbed simultaneously up the entire length of her spine, and her left shoulder seared painfully whenever she moved it, but she knew that was from when she'd slammed the dislocated limb back into its socket herself a few moments after her shuttle's collision into the Terran hillside.

"Hey, are you ok?" Damien spoke up suddenly, trying to peer up into the delicate Vulcan features shaded by the perfectly straight jet-black fringe hanging low in front of her eyes as T'Amona kept her gaze fixed firmly on the floor. She looked up, smiling briefly at him, noticing the worried expression on his youthful face.

"I'm fine. Just sore, is all." She assured him. Damien frowned sceptically, and that frown only deepened when his hand accidentally pressed a little too hard against her back and she had to bite back a groan of pain. The boy opened his mouth to pry further, but she just shook her head once, dipping her face back down to stare at the floor again.

Damien helped her down the last few stairs, heading towards the first door on the left, which was wide open and T'Amona's pointed ears pricked up beneath her hair, her sharper-than-human hearing picking up the heated murmuring of two voices, a man and a woman, obviously deep in hushed argument.

"…We have no idea where she came from or how she ended up here, Sophie." The man hissed angrily in a deep cultured tenor.

"We know exactly where she came from, Kyle. She's Vulcan, for God's sake! Where else could she come from?! And she's injured, so she's staying here with us until she recovers." The woman retorted, her voice somehow managing to sound soft and musical even when strained with fury. T'Amona and Damien came to a halt by the doorway, not yet stepping into view of his parents. T'Amona glanced at the young human and he shrugged his shoulders as if to say _'I told you so'_, before they both leaned forwards to peer around the doorframe.

A Terran couple stood in the middle of the room in front of the fire that danced and crackled in the hearth. The man was tall and lean, with a severe expression on his pale face. His hair was a light brown colour flecked with grey and was long, pulled back from his face in a loose ponytail. The flames were reflected in his narrow hazel eyes as he glared down at his wife, a small slender woman with shoulder-length blond curls and eyes of a rich chocolate brown. Obviously Damien's looks were inherited more from his mother's side than his father's.

"Are you out of your mind?! She can't stay here! We've barely got enough for the three of us without another mouth to feed!"

"We can't just throw her out! She's little more than a child!"

"She's not our responsibility."

"Oh yes, she damn well is! You weren't here earlier when I found that poor child unconscious and bleeding on our doorstep! You didn't see the state she was in! That girl's been through a living _hell_, and she's not leaving this house until she's back to full health. I won't stand by and watch you force a wounded child from our home just because we can't afford to look after her."

"So you'd rather we starve, just to keep some _Vulcan_ alive?!" Damien's father's anger was no longer quiet as his enraged shout echoed throughout the entire house. T'Amona and Damien stayed completely silent, exchanging quick looks with each other. The kid's face was stark white, his brown orbs impossibly wide in his head. He was trembling beside her and his eyes glistened wetly, and T'Amona acted without thinking or hesitating, draping her arms around him and drawing him close to her body where he hugged her tightly, his hands gripping fistfuls of her black robes.

"What's the point?! It's not like she's got anything to live for!"

"_Kyle!_" The woman gasped, her hand flying up to cover her mouth at the shock of her husbands vicious words.

"It's true!" He raged on, his face flushed red with fury. "Her planet's been _destroyed!_ Most of her people are _dead!_ That girl is part of a dying race, Sophie, so you tell me _what the hell she's got left to live for!!_"

"Vulcan is… _gone?_"

Both humans jerked in surprise and their heads whipped around simultaneously to stare wide-eyed at the source of the new voice that had just spoken, carrying easily across the room despite being barely louder than a whisper. The Vulcan girl stood in the doorway, the Terran child still clinging to her, although now she knew he was staring at her just like his parents were. T'Amona's eyes stared straight back at them, but she saw nothing. All her previous pain was swiftly washed away by the feeling of pure numbness spreading through her limbs. It wasn't true. It _couldn't_ be true! Vulcan can't be… _gone_…

The Terran couple seemed frozen to the spot, their expressions of shock and horror perfectly identical. The silence hung thick and heavy in the room, and T'Amona felt as though she were drowning in it. It was clogging up her airway, blocking her throat, suffocating her. She swayed unsteadily, her hands coming swiftly up to cradle her head as her mind reeled from the onslaught of mental anguish, darkness creeping inwards from the corners of her vision. She didn't realise she was falling until two pairs of hands caught her this time, a familiar small pair gripping her waist so tightly that she grimaced from the pain, and a new pair clasped securely around the tops of her arms.

"Are you alright?" The woman asked, and the scent of honeysuckle once again caught T'Amona's nose. One pink Terran hand moved up from T'Amona's shoulder and brushed back the sleek black fringe, pressing the palm flat against the hot greenish skin of her forehead. The emotional transference from the contact of the human skin against hers made a rush of guilt and concern jolt through her body from the woman holding her.

"Whoa, you're burning up, honey. You shouldn't be out of bed so soon, let me help you back upstairs."

"No…" T'Amona murmured, not even bothering to point out that Vulcans naturally had a higher body temperature than humans, and that if she _weren't_ burning up right now, then there was something seriously wrong.

"Ok, now you just breathe for a minute. You'll be ok. You'll be fine."

"Thank you…" T'Amona panted softly, the darkness starting to slowly recede from her eyesight. "…But please… don't touch me…"

Damien's mother's eyes shone with momentary hurt before she understood what the girl meant. Vulcans avoided physical contact as much as they possibly could. Being touch-telepaths, it was understandable. Or rather, it was logical. Of course it was logical. Everything Vulcan was _logical_.

The hand swiftly left her forehead and the emotions that had accompanied it vanished along with it, much to T'Amona's internal relief. She absently noted that Damien was still clutching her around the waist, but he'd loosened his death-grip a little so his hold was a little more comfortable than before. Illogically, she made no move to remove him from her.

The Terran woman stepped back, giving T'Amona some space.

"I'm Sophie." She introduced herself with a kind smile, then gestured behind her to her husband who still stood by the fireplace, his features pinched and his mouth pressed into a thin line. His expression was a strange mixture of anger, embarrassment and guilt, his hazel eyes fixed firmly on the injured stranger. "And this is my husband, Kyle. You've already met Damien, obviously. Even though I told him not to disturb you."

The last part of that sentence was aimed at her young son, paired with a stern frown to hit the point home. T'Amona felt Damien wince against her side as he untangled his arms completely from around her and rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, a red flush dusting his freckled cheeks. He looked ready to protest his innocence to his chastising mother, but no words left his lips when an unexpected bandaged hand gently touched his shoulder.

"My name is T'Amona. Please do not blame the boy; he did not disturb me. I was already awake when he made his presence known to me." T'Amona addressed his parents respectfully, her voice returning gracefully into the soft cultured tones that were expected of her as one of her race. She made sure that her face gave away absolutely no emotion whatsoever and let go of Damien's shoulder to fold her hands demurely in front of her. A picture of poise and diplomacy, the perfect example of a typical Vulcan female.

Damien immediately noticed the difference and gawped up at her in bewilderment, but she ignored his gaze, staring straight ahead. Both Sophie and Kyle looked a little taken aback from been spoken to so courteously by someone much younger than themselves.

"Vulcan is gone?" T'Amona inquired again, her cool exterior giving nothing away of the horrible pain and dread consuming her from inside except of the almost imperceptible trembling of her hands. Sophie and Kyle had the grace to look ashamed.

"I'm so sorry, honey…" Sophie started sympathetically, confirming T'Amona's worst fears.

'_Gone… the whole planet… everyone I know is dead…'_ T'Amona's breath hitched in her throat as she desperately fought the tears that were threatening to overflow. _'No… my mother… my mother was… is… no…'_

"How?" T'Amona demanded icily, cutting across the woman to instead direct the question to her husband. She didn't want condolences. She didn't want to break down and sob in front of this Terran family. She didn't want their pity, their kind words, their comforting hands. She wanted answers, and she wanted to be able to grieve the loss of her planet and her mother alone.

"It was destroyed a little over a week ago." Kyle replied with obvious reluctance, shifting his weight slightly as his eyes looked anywhere but into hers. "We don't know exactly _how_ it happened, but it was reported that a Romulan named Nero was responsible."

T'Amona inhaled sharply through her nose, her spine stiffening so abruptly that several vertebrae cracked loudly in protest, the unpleasant noise echoing through her entire body. _Nero…_ Of course he was the destroyer of Vulcan. Never had there been such a man driven by so much bitterness and rage, craving revenge enough to wipe out almost an entire race. Maybe he actually had succeeded in total genocide. Maybe T'Amona was the only one of her kind left in existence. Ambassador Spock was still missing. She hadn't been able to find him. Had he returned to his home planet somehow and perished along with the rest of Vulcan? Was T'Amona truly alone now?

"T'Amona?" A voice spoke softly from about a metre away from her, the sound slicing through the thick mist that had shrouded her mind as effectively as any blade. Before she could react, a small hand reached out and gently took hold of one of her bandaged hands. T'Amona glanced downwards in surprise and saw a pair of rich chocolate-coloured eyes staring remorsefully back up at her from beneath stray locks of dark blond hair.

And it was at that moment she realised she felt nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

There should've been the rush of emotional transference pouring from the young boy into her, the slight tingling feeling they should've both received from the skin-to-skin contact. There should've even been some unintentional misplaced pleasure since Vulcan hands were one of the most major erogenous parts of their anatomy. But there was none of any of that. All she could feel was the pressure of his hand in hers, nothing more. Her hands were more damaged than she'd originally thought. Her hands were dead.

No… they weren't dead.

They were _human_.

T'Amona tore her hand away from Damien's so fast that she nearly overbalanced on her still unsteady legs. The responding flash of hurt that burned in his eyes made T'Amona feel as though he'd just stuck his hand into her chest and squeezed her heart in a steely vice-like grip, although she knew that was both physically impossible and illogical to even consider. She had to turn away from him.

"I wish to thank you and your family for your generous hospitality." She told Damien's parents, who had remained silent throughout the previous exchange. They were stood side by side now, but T'Amona couldn't remember noticing them move. Sophie and Kyle nodded congenially back at her, Sophie with a kind yet sad smile and Kyle with an unreadable expression on his stern features.

"I am eternally indebted to you, and should we ever meet again, I would be honoured to repay the favour in whatever way I can." T'Amona continued, brushing her fingertips together lightly and once again feeling nothing. "I am sorry for intruding in your house for so long, and I believe I have outstayed my welcome, so I will take my leave now."

"Now?" Sophie blurted out in surprise, glancing over at the large window set in the wall to her far left. T'Amona followed her gaze and stared through the transparent glass, out into the darkness of night that blackened the horizon.

"You don't have to leave right now, T'Amona. And you haven't outstayed your welcome at all. You've barely been here for three hours, you still need more time to recover." Sophie smiled warmly at her. "Stay the night. It's much safer here than wondering around alone at this time of night. Especially for someone in your condition, honey. We don't want to let you go until we know for sure that you're well enough."

T'Amona considered the suggestion for a moment.

"That is logical." She agreed, inclining her head towards the blonde Terran woman graciously. Sophie looked delighted as she clapped her hands together once as she made her way back towards T'Amona.

"Do you want me to help you back upstairs, honey?" She asked. T'Amona shook her head and cast her eyes down to the floor almost humbly, ignoring the fact that she could feel three pairs of Terran eyes drilling into her slender form, two in front and one from behind.

"I would like some privacy. I need to be alone for a while. To mourn the loss of my people, if you please."

"Of course, of course. Oh, there's a wonderful little spot out back. It's a few minutes walk from here just up the hillside. Its nice and quiet, and you'll find that the view of the city below is just spectacular." Sophie told her, gesturing the direction to go with her delicate hands. "It's the perfect place to just sit and think, to clear your head, so to speak. Very relaxing. Though it might be a little cold out there tonight. Will you be alright in those clothes or would you like to borrow a coat?"

"I will be fine like this, thank you."

Without another word, T'Amona turned and walked briskly across the room, heading towards the door that led out back. As she opened the door and stepped outside, the sharp chill of the night air attacked her instantly, stinging her face and sending her long ebony tresses and her similar coloured robes flaring out behind her in the breeze as she began to walk up the hillside.

'_How could I have lost so much so quickly?'_ T'Amona thought in despair, lifting her face towards the starlit sky and gazing out into space beyond. _'Mother… Vulcan… And I still don't know if Ambassador Spock is still alive. The Terran was right. I don't have anything left to live for. All I can do now is grieve.'_

Her vision burned, then turned blurry. T'Amona blinked, and the first of many tears fell down to the earth at her feet.

* * *

The Terran family watched as the young Vulcan stranger left their house, and Damien continued to stare after her until long after her slender form had been completely swallowed by the darkness. He couldn't explain it, but for some reason he felt drawn to the strange alien girl. She was mysterious and she confused the hell out of him, and yet that only made him more curious about her. Obviously she'd been through something really bad to get so hurt, and then to find out that her planet and her people have been completely wiped out… She must be totally broken. Damien knew he would be in the same situation. Only what he couldn't understand is why she didn't show any of it. In his bedroom when he'd been talking to her, he thought he'd been getting to know her. But then when she'd spoken to his parents downstairs, she'd been a different person entirely. And Damien wasn't sure which one of the two was the _real_ T'Amona. He hoped it was the first one. The other was just too… _cold_.

Damien's mother sighed suddenly, and Damien tore his gaze away from the place he'd last seen T'Amona to instead stare up at her questioningly.

"That poor girl." Sophie murmured as she crossed the room and gently closed the door that T'Amona had forgotten to shut behind her. "And to find out about her planet in that way… we could've handled that with a little bit more tact."

She shot a spiteful glare of blame at her husband. Kyle didn't respond to the glare or his wife's words, probably because he hadn't been paying attention. The expression on his face was unreadable as he too stared after their newest houseguest just like his son had.

"There's something not right about that Vulcan." He said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully as his hazel eyes narrowed. Sophie looked like she wanted to slap him.

"For God's sake, Kyle! Haven't you caused enough damage already?!" She shouted, making both Kyle and Damien jump at the unexpected outburst. Twin pink spots of rage stood out vividly on the blonde woman's fair cheeks. Damien had never seen her so angry.

Kyle bristled in irritation, throwing his wife a dirty scowl.

"I didn't mean it like that!" He hissed heatedly. "It's just that… well, it's her eyes. They're not normal."

"Of course they're not normal to us, you idiot!"

"No, I mean they're not normal for a Vulcan."

Sophie put her hands on her hips, shaking her head in agitation, sending her blond curls bouncing around her face and shoulders.

"And just how do _you_ know what's 'normal' for a Vulcan?" Sophie growled.

"I've met my fair share of Vulcans over the years, Sophie. Trust me when I say that _our_ eyes are more Vulcan than hers." Kyle paused for a moment, turning his intense unreadable gaze back to the window before continuing on in a voice that was barely more than a whisper. "That girl is more than she pretends to be."

A heavy silence fell over them, only the crackling of the fire in the hearth breaking through the hush. Sophie looked about as confused as Damien felt, but before she could ask her husband what the hell he was talking about, Damien moved beside his mother and gently tugged her skirt to divert her attention down to him.

Sophie glanced down and met her son's gaze, her dark brown orbs softening slightly as most of the anger left her features. She patted his hand tenderly in reassurance.

"I like her." Damien said, unashamed at admitting it. "I want her to stay here with us. Can we keep her?"

Sophie smiled sadly.

"I like her too, sweetie. But you know we can't keep her. She's not a pet, Damien."

"I know she's not a pet, but why can't she stay with us? She hasn't got anyone else now. T'Amona needs someone to love and care for her. Without us, she'll have nobody."

Sophie's brow creased as she frowned slightly, and Damien knew she'd been thinking along the same lines. She sighed, leaning forwards and placing her hands lightly on her son's small shoulders. She opened her mouth to answer him but Kyle cut across her with a disdainful snort.

"That girl doesn't need love and care. All she needs is her precious _logic_, and the rest be damned. Don't you go getting mixed up with people like her, my son." His father warned him sternly. He cast his gaze one last time in the direction of the window, then pointedly turned his back on it. Damien realised that he was also turning his back on T'Amona.

"The sooner she leaves, the better. For all of us."

* * *

James Tiberius Kirk was proud of himself. Not because he was the youngest Captain ever in Starfleet history, or because the ship he captained was none other than the flagship of the 'Fleet, the USS _Enterprise_ itself, or even because of his immediate rise to fame swiftly after the defeated of the Romulan Captain Nero and his ship the _Narada_, and ultimately saving the galaxy little over a week ago.

No. At that moment, he was proud of himself because for what was probably the first time in his life, he had left a bar on his own two feet, rather than staggering out, leaning heavily on his best friend and chief medical officer Leonard 'Bones' McCoy's shoulders after having the living daylights beat out of him in a vicious bar fight. Hell, today there hadn't even _been_ a bar fight. And that was progress, as far as he was concerned.

And that progress, he'd decided, was cause to celebrate. So after leaving one bar, he proceeded straight into the next, dragging several members of the _Enterprise_'s crew with him. And now Jim was celebrating in the best way he knew how: Drinking as much as he could and getting completely plastered.

"Whoa, slow down there, Jim." Bones warned, moving the bottle that the curvaceous Orion barmaid had just placed before the Captain well out of his reach. Jim was so busy ogling the hypnotic swaying of the barmaid's hips as she walked away that he didn't even realise his drink had gone until his hand closed around nothing but thin air.

"Hey, where's my…" He muttered, staring in cross-eyed confusion at the place where the bottle had previously been. Bones rolled his eyes and Uhura laughed from where she sat beside him, taking a sip from the glass of alcohol in her hands.

"Something tells me he won't be walking out of _this_ bar." She grinned. Glancing past the inebriated Captain, she winced and took another drink. "And it looks like someone's going to have to carry Chekov."

Unsurprisingly, no one volunteered. Pavel Chekov looked mere seconds away from throwing up his guts.

Giving up on locating his missing drink, Jim blearily looked around his fellow drinking buddies. As this was their last night on Earth and they were due to set off for their first _official_ mission under Captain Kirk's command tomorrow morning, Jim figured that they should all go and unwind at some local earth boozer. Bones had reluctantly agreed to accompany him, probably because he knew Jim would only get hurt without him, and had brought along his trusty tricorder and several hyposprays just in case. Scotty had boasted that he wouldn't be a true Scotsman if he declined a good stiff drink, and Sulu came along because Chekov had asked him to. Jim was fairly surprised that Uhura had turned up, and he was even more surprised that by some miracle she'd managed to drag Spock along with her. He hadn't looked impressed, if that one raised eyebrow was anything to go by, but he hadn't exactly complained either. Probably because of his Vulcan pride or something.

The Vulcan in question lifted his gaze up from the full glass of alcohol that he hadn't touched and found himself being stared at by Captain Kirk. Jim grinned at him blearily and watched as one perfectly tapered eyebrow lifted slightly in response. God, it was unbelievable just how many emotions that one raised eyebrow could convey. Especially towards Jim. He always seemed to be the one of the receiving end of Spock's eyebrow quirking. Probably because Spock was always thinking how James T. Kirk was the most illogical human he'd ever met. Not that Jim ever denied that.

"Hey Spoooock." Jim slurred, absently reaching behind him to steal Chekov's abandoned drink. He took a large gulp that made his throat burn and he winced. Straight Vodka. No wonder the kid was practically comatose. How the Hell had the seventeen-year-old Russian managed to get served here anyway?

"Yes, Captain?" Spock inquired, his face giving away absolutely nothing, as usual. But even then, Jim could tell that Spock was irritated. Uhura must've done some pretty smooth talking to get the uptight Vulcan down here. Had she threatened him? Or had she seduced him? Knowing Uhura, probably a combination of the two. Poor Spock. Jim almost felt sorry for him every now and then.

"I can't re…remen… remember seeing you at my Cap'n ceremony th…thing today." He told him, pouting at the half Vulcan. The sentence had sounded perfectly understandable to Jim, but Spock's brows furrowed ever so slightly into an almost imperceptible frown as he tried to make sense of the Captain's inebriated words.

"I did not think it would be prudent for me to attend, Captain." Spock replied. Jim took that to be Spock-Speak for _"Well, I don't like you, so why should I have turned up just to watch you get promoted to the position what was supposed to be mine?"_

"Aww, why? You're my first ossifer… no you're not; you're my fist officer, I mean. Y'shoulda been th…there." Jim whined, sounding like a drunken bratty five-year-old.

"Indeed." Spock answered, and left it at that. Obviously _that_ conversation was over. And if Jim hadn't got the message, Spock pointedly turned away from him, returning to a conversation with Scotty and Uhura which he'd been previously interrupted from.

Jim blinked at Spock's back, swirling the odourless, colourless liquid around in the glass he held thoughtfully. He went to take another drink, but unfortunately for the blond Captain, Bones suddenly noticed that Jim had somehow gotten his hands on some more alcohol.

"Dammit Jim, enough with the drink!" He spluttered as he wrestled the glass away from him.

"Relax Bones, y'gonna jab me with a hangover hypersprain in the morn'n anyways." Jim pointed out, trying to reach around Bones, but the older man kept him at arms length as he scowled at him

"If I even knew what a hypersprain was…" Bones muttered in annoyance, forcing Jim back down onto his barstool. "Now sit there and shut up before I _do_ hypospray you, and it won't be for hangovers neither."

Even in his drunken state, Jim understood that Bones was deadly serious and did as he was told without a fight, keeping both his hands clamped around his neck just in case the good doctor decided to hypospray him just for the fun of it. Bones's most preferred method of torture was those evil hyposprays, and his most preferred victim was, without a doubt, Jim Kirk. Jim wondered if Bones got some kind of sadistic pleasure every time he jabbed one into the Captain's poor unsuspecting neck. He did seem to enjoy it maybe a little bit too much.

It wasn't too long after that when Chekov passed out onto Sulu's lap and it was a pretty much unanimous decision to leave, much to the loud objections of Captain Kirk, of course. But he shut up pretty damn quick when Bones actually took a hypospray from his pocket and Jim nearly tripped over his own feet in his haste to escape.

As the _Enterprise_ crew made their way to the exit, Jim was determined to leave this bar by himself just to prove Uhura wrong, but when he stumbled out of the doorway, someone caught his elbow to stop the young Captain falling flat on his handsome face. Annoyed, Jim slapped the hand away.

"Dammit, Bones, I can walk y'know." He growled, and was surprised when it wasn't Bones's voice that answered him.

"Um, I'm not Dr McCoy, laddie." Scotty said, remarkably steady on his feet after God knows how much Scotch he'd downed in the last few hours.

'_Scotty, I want your liver.'_ Jim thought, but didn't say it aloud as not to humiliate himself even more than he already had. He nodded to the chief engineer in thanks and pulled away from him, trying as hard as he could to walk in a straight line and ignoring the fact that Bones hovered less than a foot away from him, ready to catch him if he fell. Behind him, he could hear Sulu panting and muttering under his breath as he supported the gently snoring Chekov, and the hushed voices of Spock and Uhura as they spoke to each other. It didn't even sound English to Jim's ears, so he guessed they were conversing in Vulcan or some other of the fifty billion languages they knew between them.

Suddenly they fell silent.

"Spock?" Uhura asked in English this time, her voice carrying easily through the night. Jim threw on the brakes instantly at the amount of concern he heard in Uhura's words.

"Captain." Spock said quietly, but to Jim it felt as though he'd shouted. He turned around as swiftly as he could without losing his balance.

Spock could've been mistaken for a Vulcan statue. His back was impossibly straight and his features looked as though they'd been carved out of stone. Uhura stood beside him, gazing up at him anxiously with her hand on his forearm. Spock was facing in the opposite direction from where they'd been walking, so all Jim could see was half his face and one delicately pointed ear.

"Spock? What's wrong?"

"Up on the hill, Captain." The Vulcan hybrid answered, his usual emotionless rich baritone sounding a little more strained that it should. Confused, Jim scanned the landscape behind his first officer, his blue eyes trailing over several hillsides before he immediately spotted what Spock was talking about.

An unnatural orange glow flickered and danced around a lone house atop one of the hills, the entire building consumed with vicious flames. Thick plumes of smoke were barely visible in the night sky. Jim felt the bottom drop out of his stomach.

"Shit!" He swore, a sudden rush of adrenaline pulsing through his veins, eating its way into and through his drunken stupor. "Uhura, call for help! Scotty, you stay here with Chekov! Spock, Sulu, Bones, come with me! There might be people still in there!"

Jim took off into a sprint towards the house, feeling more sober with every step he took as adrenaline overtook his body. The rhythmical pounding of boots against tarmac told him the Spock and Bones weren't too far behind him, and Sulu was swiftly catching up after dumping Chekov with Scotty and Uhura.

They could only hope that they weren't too late.

* * *

"Kid!!" T'Amona shouted, choking on the thick black smoke that clogged the air, blocking her furiously straining lungs as she sprinted up the stairs, dodging the flames that licked at her ankles. The heat was unbearable, even for her. The entire house was ablaze, chunks of debris falling from the ceiling and crumbling away under her feet.

Green blood that wasn't hers stained the bandages of her hands, but she tried her best to ignore it as she fought her way up the staircase, lurching and gripping onto the banister as one of the wooden roof supports came crashing down, landing inches away from where her head had just been less than a second before.

"Damien!!" T'Amona screamed. Her eyes were streaming tears down her face, leaving slick tracks snaking their way down her cheeks that were black with ash. She was limping heavily, her left thigh burning far more intense than the flames that surrounded her as dark green blood seeped through her robes. This time the blood was hers.

"DAMIEN!!"

"T'A…mona…" A weak voice called out, so quiet that T'Amona had to furiously strain her ears to hear it over the ferocious snarling of the blaze. Her head snapped quickly in the direction she assumed the kid had responded from and she threw herself bodily against a door completely consumed by fire. Patches of her robes burned away and the flames ate into the green skin beneath. T'Amona grit her teeth against the pain, covering her mouth with her sleeve as she staggered into the bedroom, her eyes frantically scanning every inch for a familiar mop of dark blond hair or pale pink Terran skin.

"Where are you, kid?!" She cried. She was so close to becoming hysterical. She'd never felt so out of control in her life.

"T'Amona… Over here…" Damien wheezed feebly. In her peripheral vision, T'Amona caught sight of something small shifting slightly by the bed, and a pair of fearful chocolate brown eyes met hers.

She stumbled across the room as quickly as her wounded leg would let her, heading straight for the human boy. Damien had curled himself up into a ball in a corner, his arms wrapped tightly around his legs, sobbing into his knees. He looked so scared and helpless that despite all the chaos and fire all around them, T'Amona dropped to her knees and threw her arms around him. The relief that the kid was still alive filled T'Amona up with a new resolve. A few minutes ago she'd been fully prepared to just lay down and burn with the rest of the house, but now she was fiercely determined to get Damien to safety before the roof came crashing down on their heads.

"T'Amona… my mom… my dad… they're…" Damien wept into her chest, his tears soaking through her clothes.

"Shh… just hold on to me now, Damien. I'm going to get us out of here. Don't let go, whatever happens." T'Amona told him, picking her up in her arms as she rose unsteadily to her feet. Damien locked his legs around her waist and coiled his arms tightly around her neck, still sobbing gently with his face pressed into her collarbone as T'Amona set off in a hobbling run back into the hallway, making for whatever was left of the stairs.

A loud creaking noise from above them made Damien unbury his head and look up. T'Amona ignored the sound, totally focused on trying not to trip down the ruined staircase.

"Look out!!" Damien shouted. T'Amona flung her head up just in time to watch a large section of the roof splinter and plummet down towards them. Thinking quickly, T'Amona threw herself sideways over the banister, keeping Damien clutched tightly to her chest to protect him from getting hurt.

But she'd moved a second too late and an explosion of white-hot agony ripped through her shoulder as another wooden roof support clipped her arm. T'Amona howled like a wounded animal as her left arm hung limply by her side. She knew it was dislocated again, just like it had been before.

T'Amona landed miraculously on her feet, feeling her anklebones crunch as the impact made twin sharp bolts of pain shoot up her legs, but she wasn't even going to let shattered ankles keep her from getting the Terran child and herself out of that burning house if it was the last thing she ever did.

Damien's head lolled against her undamaged shoulder in such a way that made T'Amona glance sharply down at him, fear freezing her lungs. For a brief second, she thought she'd lost him, that he'd also been hit by the falling debris and been killed, but then she realised she could feel his soft even breathing against her throat, and his heart thumping in his chest. Damien wasn't dead, just unconscious. T'Amona started to breathe again, but then she noticed a nasty gash had suddenly appeared and crimson liquid started oozing through his blond locks, staining T'Amona's bandaged hand at the back of his head with even more blood that wasn't hers.

"No, don't you do this to me, Damien!" T'Amona growled as she sprinted through the house, looking for a way out, "Don't you _dare_ die on me, Terran!"

The house wasn't going to last much longer, the damage from the fire just too great for the structure to handle. The air was so thick with ash that T'Amona could barely see where she was going, stumbling from room to room, a nasty feeling of panic and defeat starting to spread through her body, slowing her limbs and her mind.

'_No! I won't give up! I can't give up!'_ T'Amona thought angrily to herself, trying to keep her focus. Her energy was totally spent now, and she was running on pure adrenaline. When that too eventually ran out, they were both dead.

She found herself back in the room she'd been less than an hour ago. The fireplace was still burning, as was the rest of the house. Flames were attacking her from all sides now, so aggressively determined to scorch the skin off her bones. Three bodies lay on the floor, now no more than blackened corpses; their charred remains completely unidentifiable. But T'Amona knew exactly who they were. And she was eternally grateful that the boy in her arms was unconscious. No child should ever have to see their parents like that.

T'Amona's heart literally skipped a beat when she came to an abrupt halt in front of the last door. Blazing wreckage blocked the only remaining exit, and although T'Amona was strong enough to heave the obstruction aside, there wasn't enough time. She and Damien had mere seconds before they were buried under a mountain of rubble, another two bodies to join the three that had already perished.

T'Amona wanted to drop to her knees and cry. A panicked haze was blurring her logic, cutting off all other thoughts and senses until nothing but pain and despair remained. Despair for all the Vulcans who were lost along with the planet, despair for the Terran family who had died before the fire had even broken out, and despair for herself… _because even in her last moments, she hadn't been able to do anything right._

Another piece of the ceiling collapsed a few feet from where she stood, still holding Damien close to her body even though there was nothing she could do that would protect him from suffering the same fate as his parents. T'Amona raised her head slowly up to the sky, her final thoughts of nothing but her mother and Ambassador Spock…

And she saw stars.

* * *

Perspiration soaked Captain Kirk's clothes to his skin, his breath coming out in harsh pants from the uphill sprint. Spock could see how he was struggling to keep going at a swift rate, but was surprised at how long the blond-haired man had managed to last. Kirk was inebriated. Very inebriated, judging by the sheer amount of alcohol he had consumed within the last few hours. And yet his pace not yet faltered even the slightest.

Spock had to admit that he was not entirely comfortable. He did not like running. And he did not like Kirk. In the week that had passed since the defeat of Nero, he and the Captain had discovered a grudging respect and trust for each other, but despite what his older self had told him earlier today (during Kirk's 'Captain ceremony thing' that he had not attended), a friendship between them had not progressed. Every time he and Kirk locked eyes, he still felt a heated annoyance towards the Captain that seemed to come from nowhere. He couldn't see himself befriending a man like James T. Kirk. But even now, Spock had to admire the man's determination. Kirk was acting like a true Captain, despite his being under the influence.

"Jim!" Doctor McCoy shouted, finding it a little more difficult to keep up with the three younger men as he lagged quite far behind, "Jim, don't play the hero!"

Spock didn't understand what the Doctor meant by that, but when he cast his gaze over Kirk, he realised the man was still running with no intention of stopping a safe distance away from the raging inferno that surrounded the house.

"The building isn't going to last much longer!" Sulu yelled.

"Captain, we have exactly two point three five minutes." Spock said, working out the calculations quickly with his superior Vulcan intellect.

"There could be someone still in there!" Kirk roared back, speeding up now that he knew time was against them. Spock couldn't think of anything logical to say or do to deter the Captain from his current course, so he prepared himself to run after him into a burning building. Before the Nero incident, Spock wouldn't have followed James Kirk anywhere, not even if his existence depended on it. But now Spock knew that however illogical or unorthodox the blond Captains methods may be, they usually bore the best results. Spock could only hope that today was not going to be any different, and Kirk was not about to lead them both to a swift fiery demise.

Suddenly one of the downstairs windows shattered as a humanoid figure launched itself through it in a final bid to escape the flame-consumed building.

"Over there!" Sulu called out, and Kirk quickly changed direction, sprinting for the survivor. Even from afar, Spock could tell that the figure slight and had the slender body proportions of a young woman. She was wearing long black robes that were torn, bloody and burnt, and it looked like she was carrying something in her arms as she staggered away from the house, limping heavily.

"Bones! Get over here!" Kirk yelled over his shoulder as he and Spock closed the distance between them and the woman. She was struggling to walk, and suddenly she faltered, collapsing facedown into the grass. Her arms fell open and another figure fell out of them, a small child sent sprawling alongside her.

Kirk threw himself straight down onto his knees beside them, reaching out to the nearest body.

"_No_… don't touch me… save the… boy…" The female coughed, weakly pushing Kirk's arm away from her and towards the child. Spock immediately noticed how both her hands were wrapped up tightly in bloodstained bandages.

"Captain, we are almost out of time." Spock warned the blond-haired man as Kirk scooped the unconscious boy up in his arms. The Captain glanced back towards the house, then lurched to his feet, setting off into run back towards Doctor McCoy and Sulu, the child's scrawny arms hanging limply around his body as he ran.

"Grab her!" Kirk shouted back to Spock. The Vulcan hesitated for only the briefest moment before lifting the girl easily up in his arms bridal style, following Kirk. Spock could feel the emotional transference from where his hands unwillingly touched the bared patches of skin where the flames had burnt holes in her clothing. There was so much pain and despair coming in thick waves from the girl that Spock actually winced from the mental assault, the emotions almost unbearable as they completely consumed his mind. His own feelings of despair at losing his planet and his mother were surfacing from where he had buried them so deep down inside himself, reaching out and combining with the young woman's, making the grief and agony so overpowering that Spock nearly faltered himself, losing his footing slightly on a patch of grass as he and the Captain retreated from the blaze, their arms full of injured humans.

Once they were more than a safe distance away, Kirk gently laid the boy down on the grass and Doctor McCoy was there instantly, whipping his tricorder out and scanning every inch of the Terran child to discover the extent his injuries. Kirk was watching anxiously as Doctor McCoy fussed over the young human, and Sulu glanced up just as Spock drew close. His brown eyes grew wide as he stared, his mouth dropping open almost comically. But no one was in a laughing mood.

"Spock, she's one of…" He trailed off before he could complete the sentence, but the tone of his voice made both Doctor McCoy and Kirk turn their attentions on the Vulcan half-breed as Spock looked sharply down at the still figure in his arms.

And the sight rendered him completely speechless for at least a minute. The girl had long sleek black hair that framed a face that was very aesthetically pleasing, but what immediately caught Spock's undivided attention were the perfectly tapered eyebrows and the warmer-than-human green-tinted skin. Spock could not believe his eyes. This girl was Vulcan.

Unexpectedly, the Vulcan stranger stirred, and her eyelids flickered a few times before sliding fully open. And once again, Spock found himself unable to say a single word as she stared up at him through unfocused eyes.

Unfocused eyes that were an unnatural sparkling sapphire blue.

The twin cerulean orbs narrowed, then suddenly widened with recognition. One trembling bandaged hand came up to Spock's face.

"I… found… you…" She whispered hoarsely, her lips spreading into a small smile. Spock could not take his eyes off her, all his logic and reasoning screaming at him in dumbstruck disbelief.

The hand fell as the house exploded.

* * *

**Confused? I am XD**

**Ok, I'm kidding, I know exactly what's going on here. Yeah, I make a bunch of OCs up, and kill most of them in the same chapter. And Damien is kinda modelled personality-wise on my little brother, so its a lot of fun writing him. :D**

**Oh, and by the by, there were THREE bodies people dearest, I didn't make a typo mistake. (Which is a surprise, because I usually make typo mistakes but meh. Whatever.) But oooooh who was the third???? Heh heh, wait and see ;p**

**Let me know what you think! **

**(ps: I hate writing drunk Jim. In fact, I hate writing drunk anyone. I just can't do it! I fail, oh so epically... )**

**See ya next time!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Heya, here's the next part of T'Amona. And in record time too! XD Considering how long it usually takes me to update my stories... *hangs head in shame***

**But anyways, onwards! Read on and review people, let me know what you think. ^^**

**Oh, and by the by, this beginning bit is from the actual end of the movie, so I dont own that, ok? :D**

* * *

**Star date: 2258**

**Location: USS _Enterprise_**

"Thrusters and impulse engines at your command, sir." Sulu said, expertly working the controls of the _Enterprise_ in his capable hands, flicking numerous important switches and buttons to prepare the ship for takeoff.

"Weapons systems and shields are on standby." Chekov added in his thick accent, glancing back over his shoulder as he too fiddled with the controls at his station. Thankfully the young Russian ensign had regained consciousness and was completely sober now, thanks to a hangover concoction hypospray to the neck from Dr McCoy.

Lieutenant Uhura spun around gently in her chair, turning to face the turbolift doors that had just opened to reveal Captain James T. Kirk, who looked rather dashing in his new yellow uniform shirt, if he did say so himself.

"Dock control reports ready." Uhura said, crossing one dark shapely leg over the other without flashing her underwear beneath her short uniform skirt. That was quite impressive actually, considering just how short that skirt was. "_Captain_."

The slight sarcastic emphasis she put on his title didn't go unnoticed to Jim, but he could tell by the little smile she gave him while she said it that she didn't mean it in a nasty way. He knew that their relationship would be mostly based on sarcasm and rolled eyes, as it had been right up from the moment he met the beautiful Nyota Uhura in that bar where, moments after meeting her, he'd had the living shit beat out of him by a huge man he'd nicknamed 'Cupcake'. It was pretty ironic that Cupcake now served under him on the _Enterprise_. Now Jim could taunt him into a livid rage and get away with it. Oh the perks of being a Captain.

Jim looked around the bridge, taking in the faces of his crew with a warm feeling spreading through his chest that reminded him of how a proud father would look down at his newborn son. And Jim honestly did feel that way. He was proud of his crew. Every last one of them, even if he knew them well or their names escaped him, he was _so damn proud_.

He made his way down a couple of stairs and caught sight of his good friend Bones. His good friend Bones who'd barged into his room at the crack of dawn and shot him with a hypospray before Jim had even had chance to leap out of bed and run for cover. His neck still hurt, but he resisted the urge to wince and rub his throat, instead reaching out and slapping Bones on the shoulder, his sapphire eyes sparkling with delight.

"Bones, buckle up."

Bones rolled his eyes and shook his head in amusement as Jim continued past him to the Captain's chair that was now all his, and was sat waiting for him. Jim couldn't help feeling ever so slightly smug as he sat down, his hands running over the cool metal armrests. He took a few moments to savour the feeling before he pressed the communicator for engineering.

"Scotty, how we doing?"

"Dilithium chambers at maximum, Captain." The Scotsman answered immediately, and Jim could practically hear the happiness in Scotty's voice. God, that man loved the _Enterprise_ more than he loved his own mother. It was borderline obsessive, actually, if Jim was being completely honest.

Smiling to himself, Jim released the intercom and looked around his crew again, unable to resist. And it was at that moment that he realised someone was missing. Someone who really shouldn't be missing, considering he was Jim's First Officer. _Spock_. Where was he anyway? It wasn't like Spock to be late for anything, especially something as important as this.

Jim glanced around again, double-checking that the half-Vulcan wasn't hiding in a dark corner somewhere. There was no sign of him. Jim felt a small swell of sadness rush through his chest. He knew he and Spock didn't exactly see eye-to-eye on almost everything, but did he really hate Jim that much to leave the _Enterprise_ without saying a single word to him? Obviously he hadn't said anything to Uhura either, since Jim doubted she'd still be smiling if she knew Spock had turned tail and run for the hills. He hadn't mentioned anything in any of the bars last night, but then again, Jim hadn't exactly been at his most sober, so even if he had, Jim doubted he would've remembered.

Jim bit back a sigh that would've been a mixture of misery and annoyance. Well, more annoyance than misery. Dammit, he'd need another First Officer now. And as much as he wanted to deny it, no one could do a better job than Spock had. He'd been sort of getting used to having Spock at his right hand.

'_Ah well_,' he thought glumly, '_life's a bitch. Spock's loss._'

Jim looked over towards Sulu, his smile slowly returning.

"Mr Sulu, prepare to engage thrusters."

Sulu's response was drowned out by the hiss of the turbolift doors, and Jim attention was instantly diverted as he swiftly turned his head in that direction.

The doors gently slid open and a familiar tall, dark-haired, dark-eyed, green-skinned half-Vulcan stepped out onto the bridge.

"Permission to come aboard, Captain?" Spock inquired as the turbolift doors shut smoothly behind him with another hiss. Jim felt his lips curl upwards into a smile.

"Permission granted." He said. Spock walked further into the bridge, making his way down the stairs towards his Captain. Jim rose to his feet, meeting him halfway.

"As you have yet to select a First Officer, respectfully I would like to submit my candidacy" Spock stated, coming to a stop in front of Jim. His hands were clasped behind his back, as Jim expected they would be. "Should you desire, I can provide character references."

Jim fought back the wide grin that threatened to spread at Spock's words. He was silent for a moment, more for suspense than hesitation. Because, lets be honest, there was absolutely no hesitation about it.

"It would be my honour, Commander."

Spock inclined his head respectfully to Jim, averting his rich chocolate brown gaze quickly as he continued on past the Captain, heading for his station. Jim stood there for a moment, nodding his head once with a satisfied smile as he turned and sat back down in his chair. _His chair_… God, it felt so good to say that.

"Manoeuvring thrusters, Mr Sulu."

"Thrusters on standby." Sulu answered. Out of the corner of his eye, Jim saw Uhura turn back to her station, the smile on her face wider than ever.

"Take us out." Jim instructed, sitting up a little straighter in his new chair.

"Aye aye, Captain."

* * *

They'd barely been up in the air for more than three hours before Captain Kirk was being communicated by Bones in the medical bay.

"Jim?"

"Yeah, Bones?"

"Jim, come down here. The Vulcan girl's awake." Bones hesitated a moment. "You should bring the hobgoblin with you."

"I was going to bring him down with me anyway." Jim answered, smirking slightly as he heard Bones mutter something about pointy-eared bastards under his breath as he cut off the communicator. Jim rose from his chair, stretching his arms out widely with a contented sigh as the slight ache in his muscles was eased.

"Mr Sulu, you have the conn. Spock, we're needed in the sickbay. Sounds like our guests are coming back to the land of the living." Jim said, gesturing for his First Officer to follow him as he headed for the turbolift As expected, Spock fell into step beside the blond Captain and they entered the turbolift side by side, Jim reaching across Spock to press the button for the right floor. The doors hissed shut and the lift began to descend.

Last night, Jim thought it was safe to say that all of them had been so damn shocked to find a Vulcan on earth. Not that Vulcans didn't visit earth from time to time, but Jim knew that practically every remaining Vulcan in the universe right now was heading straight for New Vulcan, a planet they had claimed as their own that was similar to the one they'd lost so they could begin to repopulate and restore their numbers. New Vulcan's climate was as close to the original Vulcan's as they were going to get, and they'd been lucky that it had been uninhabited. The _Enterprise_'s first mission was involved with New Vulcan, naturally. Vulcan had been an important part of the Federation, and the new colony needed technology and other necessities to ensure the continuation of their race and the growth and development of their new home planet. Basically, the _Enterprise _was responsible for the safe delivery of that technology and necessities. It was all ready and waiting in the cargo bay. In less than a week, the _Enterprise_ would arrive at New Vulcan.

But Jim remembered the look on his First Officer's face when he'd stared down at the unconscious girl in his arms and realised that she was Vulcan. His usually stoic features had gone slack momentarily, his rich chocolate brown eyes widening in disbelief. It'd only lasted a couple of seconds, but Jim hadn't missed Spock's lapse.

Jim glanced over at Spock now. The half-Vulcan was stood stock still, staring straight ahead with his hands clasped as they always were behind his back. His face was emotionless, set in its usual neutral expression. He blinked freely, waiting patiently for the lift to come to a halt.

"Spock?" Jim suddenly spoke, turning his head so he was fully looking at his First Officer. Spock turned his own head with an elegant grace that Jim would never be able to achieve.

"Yes, Captain?"

"What d'you think?"

Spock blinked once, tilting his head a little to the side in apparent confusion.

"I think a great many things, Captain. Perhaps you should be more specific." He replied in his deep yet even baritone. Jim reached up with one hand and rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, feeling a bit of a tool.

"Uh, I mean what d'you think about her? The Vulcan girl." He clarified. Spock inclined his head once more, this time in thought. Well, at least that's what Jim guessed it was. After spending so much time around Spock, Jim was beginning to pick up on little things that Spock did in accordance with his moods. He was even starting to notice brief flashes of emotion in his eyes every now and then. Usually it was either anger or annoyance, but hey, that's a start, right?

"I do not know a substantial amount about her yet, Captain, so my thoughts on her are currently inconclusive." Spock answered, logical as ever. Jim nodded slowly, running a hand through his thick blond hair.

"Same here, I suppose." He shrugged as the turbolift came to a smooth stop and the doors slid open. Stepping out from the turbolift, the Captain and his First Officer made their way down the short corridor to the sickbay.

Jim suddenly let out a laugh and nudged Spock playfully in the arm, grinning at the half-Vulcan when Spock looked towards the blond man, an almost infinitesimal furrowing of his tapered eyebrows that didn't pass unnoticed by Jim.

"Let's hope she isn't as uptight as you, Commander." Jim winked. Another reaction from Spock that hadn't passed unnoticed to Jim was how the half-Vulcan had tensed his body when Jim's elbow touched with his arm, and how he'd subtly moved himself away from the contact. Vulcan's didn't like to be touched, Jim knew, but he couldn't help it. He was a naturally touchy person. Whether he was giving a friendly slap on the back or throwing his arm around someone's shoulders, it was entirely normal for Jim. And he sometimes forgot that his First Officer hated to be touched. Spock had already given up on reminding him about it after about the twentieth time it'd happened.

"Indeed." Spock said, stepping back so the Captain could enter the sickbay before him. With an appreciative smile that Spock didn't return, (not that Jim had expected him to), Jim sidestepped the half-Vulcan and made his way through the doors into the medbay, Spock following his lead.

"_They're my patients, and I'm not going to let some white-suit quack take them off my hands just because we're going offworld tomorrow_. _They're coming back with us so I can treat them properly in my medical bay!"_

Those had been Bones's exact words last night when Sulu had suggested taking the two survivors to the local Terran hospital. Needless to say, no one had been about to argue with McCoy, and when Spock had logically added that the Vulcan girl would need to be transported to New Vulcan as soon as possible, and that the young human boy would be safe and well-cared for aboard the Enterprise as they hadn't been able to find anyone willing to take him in at such short notice, that just made the whole idea even more final. So here they were, on board the _Enterprise_. And now, the girl was about to find out that she was on her way to the new Vulcan colony and the boy to discover he had no family left. Jim wasn't looking forward to that conversation.

In the sickbay, the first thing Jim noticed was that curtains had been drawn around one of the biobeds, and Dr McCoy was standing beside it, his back turned to Jim and Spock. Hearing their footsteps as they approached him, Bones whirled around to face them, the expression on his face thunderous as he wrung his hands together as though he was trying to prevent himself from strangling someone.

'_Uh oh,'_ Jim thought, _'I know that face. That's how he usually looks when someone severely pisses him off. Usually when he's around me or Spock. Mostly me, though.'_

"Are all you Vulcans so Goddamn stubborn?!" Bones immediately hissed at Spock, but before either he or Jim could respond, one of the curtains were drawn back and there stood the Vulcan girl survivor from the fire, her head bowed as she kept her gaze solely down at her hands where she was just finishing rewrapping them in fresh bandages. Jim blinked, momentarily thrown. _'Wait, shouldn't Bones be the one doing the bandaging?'_ Shooting a quick glance at his friend, he quickly got a good idea as to what he'd meant about Vulcans being stubborn.

The girl was struggling a little with the bandages and Bones stepped forwards to help her.

"Here, let me get that…"

Her head shot up and she levelled him with a stare that was so cold it literally froze him in his tracks. Jim was sure the room temperature had just dropped a few degrees.

"Please refrain from physical contact with me, Doctor." She said in a voice that was somehow soft yet icy at the same time. Now Jim was both surprised and concerned. He was used to Spock with his emotionless demeanour, but he had never thought that a Vulcan could be so… so _cold_. They're not supposed to act like that, are they?

Jim looked over at Spock, frowning slightly. Almost as though he'd read his mind, Spock met the Captain's gaze and turned his head marginally to the left then to the right. It was almost imperceptible, but Jim understood perfectly. _No, Vulcans aren't supposed to act like that._

Belatedly realising that she had company, the Vulcan girl's head whipped around towards Jim and Spock. And Jim instantly took in everything he saw before him. The girl was young, barely more than a teenager, and she was small and slender. Her elfin face was more beautiful than he could remember it being, but that's probably because her green-tinted skin was clean now instead of smeared with blood and ash like it had been last night. Her hair was long and sleek, a waterfall of pure ebony down to her waist with a straight fringe just above her tapered eyebrows, and he could only just see a glimpse of her pointed ears beneath the dark silky locks.

The black robes she was wearing were still torn, bloodied and burnt, and she'd taken off the top half and tied it around her waist so it looked like she was wearing a long skirt. Bandages encircled her entire torso, the white cloth covering her breasts and stomach completely from view. There was a nasty inky coloured bruise covering her left shoulder, as well as a necklace of bruises around her throat that looked sickeningly to be in the shape of handprints. Someone had obviously grabbed her by the neck and choked her hard enough to leave those cruel marks on her skin. _But who?_ The boy's family who had died in the fire? Had they abused her? No, that couldn't be right. Even if a gang of fully-grown Terran men had set upon that girl, no way would they've been able to subdue a Vulcan. She would've easily beaten them, and she would've walked away completely untouched.

And if that family had somehow hurt her, Jim highly doubted she would've risked her life trying to save the boy from the same fate as his parents like she did. It wouldn't have been logical, so a Vulcan wouldn't have done it. But she had.

Through one of the many burnt holes in her robes, Jim could see another bandage was fastened around her left thigh. A few patches of her skin were a lighter colour than the rest from where Bones had used his dermal regenerator on most of her burns and cuts. This girl had been through hell, and it was obvious that the majority of the damage hadn't been caused by the blaze.

The expression on her face was one that no one in the room had been expecting. The amount of pure emotion on her Vulcan features was enough to bring Jim's mind to an abrupt shuddering halt. Her full greenish lips were pressed together into a tight line, and her eyes were wide and burning with so much life and unrepressed feeling that Jim was starting to wonder if she was really Vulcan at all. And if that weren't enough, Jim noticed that her eyes weren't the typical dark brown they should be, and were instead a bright sparkling cobalt blue, only a shade or two darker than his own.

'_Who the hell is this girl? Or rather, __**what**__ the hell is she?'_

The very moment she caught sight of Jim and Spock, those cerulean orbs grew even wider with disbelief. She cast her stare slowly from Spock to Jim, and the blond Captain noticed that there was more than disbelief swimming in her eyes now. He didn't know what exactly, but if he had to name it he would've said it was a mixture of wonder and relief, as though she'd just found something that had been lost for a long time.

Her eyes fully met Jim's, blue searing into blue. And if it was even possible, her eyes tripled in size. Jim could've sworn he saw tears brimming in them, but none fell.

"Admiral?"

Jim looked around briefly for a second before he realised she was talking to him.

"Admiral?" He frowned, _'Yeah, I wish.'_ "No, I'm Captain James T. Kirk of the USS _Enterprise_." He'd already started with introductions so he decided to finish them. "This is my First Officer, Mr Spock, and you've already met my Chief Medical Officer Doctor McCoy. And you are…?"

"My name is of no consequence, so you are not permitted to learn it." She cut across him, staring him down while still managing to blink freely. Uncomfortable silence followed her words and the tension in the room cranked up a notch. Out of the corner of his eye, Jim noticed that his First Officer's posture was even stiffer than usual, and the tiny tightening of the green-tinted skin around his lips and eyes gave him away even though he was trying so hard to keep his features stoic. He looked pissed. Really pissed. As in, _I'm-going-to-strangle-you_ pissed. And Jim was all too familiar with that, speaking from experience and all…

The Vulcan girl glared at Jim a little more and then looked away, her right hand coming up to gingerly touch her bruised shoulder, barely suppressing a wince as she did so. She might've been Vulcan, but she was nowhere near as good as Spock when it came to hiding her emotions. Jim could easily read the pain in those unusual eyes of hers.

A soft groan suddenly cut through the silence in the medbay and four attentions were immediately diverted. The Vulcan girl spun on her heel and yanked back the curtain at the opposite side of her bed, revealing another biobed currently inhabited by the young human boy, blond-haired and befreckled. She was at his side so swiftly that Jim had blinked and actually missed her moving.

"T'A…mon…a…" The kid murmured as he began to stir from his sleep. One bandaged hand went straight to his forehead, smoothing back his blond locks tenderly from his face, the Vulcan's expression almost motherly. The sharp inhaling of breath came from his right, and Jim resisted the urge to glance over at Spock questioningly, instead continuing to watch the girl with the boy.

Bones came up to the other side of Jim, and signalled away from them with a quick jerk of his head. Jim nodded and the three of them turned and walked a fair few metres away from the strangers, out of superior Vulcan earshot.

"So what's the diagnosis, Bones?" He asked. Bones shot a quick look over his shoulder before leaning in a little closer, just to make absolutely sure they weren't being overhead. Leonard McCoy and paranoia got on about as well as Leonard McCoy and alcohol, and Jim knew from personal experience (again) that the good doctor could drink him under a table ten times over, and still be as sober as when he started.

"The kid's going to be fine. He just had a few cuts and burns that I've already sorted out, and a pretty nasty gash on the back of his head which only needed a couple of stitches. He'll be right as rain in no time. But the Vulcan… she's a different story."

"The majority of her injuries were not sustained during the fire." Spock observed.

"Damn straight they weren't." Bones agreed. "She has a deep slash running from her right collar bone, down her back and ending a few inches above her left hip. It looks like it was done with something extremely sharp, maybe a spearhead or some weapon like it. I stitched it up the best I could when she eventually _let _me, but it'll leave one hell of a scar.

"There's also a nasty phaser burn on her left thigh and a few superficial burns from the fire here and there, but she let me fix them to some extent with the dermal regenerator. Her left shoulder was dislocated, but she sorted that out by herself. Trapped her arm between her knees and punched it straight back into the socket."

Jim winced, goosebumps tingling his spine as he imagined the sound her shoulder had made when it popped back into place.

"What about her hands?"

"Ah… Jim, I have no idea what happened to her hands. She wouldn't let me look, or even scan them with my tricorder. She just asked for fresh bandages and drew the curtains while she changed them."

"She wouldn't let you? Whenever I won't let you help me when I end up battered and bruised in places I didn't even _know_ I had places, you just jab a hypospray in my neck and I'm out before I hit the floor!"

"Yeah, Jim, but you aren't more than twice as strong as me, and you can't nerve pinch me in under a second like a Vulcan can." Bones pointed out dryly. Jim blinked, then turned to look slyly up at Spock.

"Nerve pinch?" He asked, devilishly intrigued for a second before realisation suddenly dawned. "_Ahh_… so _that's_ how you knocked me out on the bridge before you marooned me on Delta Vega." Spock's eyes flickered momentarily as he inclined his head but he didn't answer, instead returning his attention to Bones.

"Did she inform you of how she sustained those wounds, Doctor McCoy?"

"Did she hell." Bones snorted. "She didn't say a single word. Wouldn't even acknowledge me when I asked about them. Damned stubborn pointy-eared pixie."

"Pixie, Bones?" Jim repeated, grinning despite himself. Bones massaged his temples as he sighed heavily, obviously thinking _'God, give me fucking strength.'_

"Well, I can hardly call her a hobgoblin now, can I? That title's already taken." He shot a dirty look up at the taller half-Vulcan First Officer that Spock feigned ignorance to noticing.

"T'Amona… Where are we? Are you ok? Your shoulder…" A youthful voice asked softly with an unmistakeable tremor of fear and uncertainty. Kirk turned back to the occupied biobed, his movements followed perfectly by Spock and Bones. The blond-haired kid was struggling to pull himself up onto his elbows, and the Vulcan girl pushed him gently but firmly back onto the bed.

"I'm fine, Damien. We're both fine. We're safe now." She assured him as he reached out and brushed his shaking fingers delicately over her bruised shoulder. This time she did a much better job of concealing her pain, her features staying completely even, her eyes remaining impressively calm and untroubled. The kid, Damien, nibbled his bottom lip anxiously, his dark brown eyes darting up from her arm to meet her soft gaze.

"My mum and dad…?" He whispered so quietly that she had to lean in a little to hear him. His eyes were impossibly wide and desperate as he stared up at her, and Jim watched as she sadly shook her head once before averting her gaze from his. The boy stared at her in horror-struck silence, his face scrunching as tears brimmed in his eyes and overflowed down his pale cheeks. Without warning, he threw himself against her chest, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist and weeping his heart out into the front of her bandages. At first, her entire body had frozen rigid, just like Spock's had when Jim nudged him earlier, but to Jim's total unexpected shock, she soon relaxed into the young boy's embrace, brushing her fingers soothingly through his hair as she murmured words of comfort in his ear.

Jim's heart felt like it had been clamped in a vice and squeezed. Damien's sobs echoed around the entire sickbay, and both Spock and Bones looked uncomfortable with the emotional scene before them. Well, Bones looked uncomfortable, shifting from foot to foot while Spock had pointedly turned his head away to the side, his hands clenched so hard behind his back that he was in danger of ripping his own arms off. And Jim couldn't help it. He tried to resist the sudden urge that swelled up inside him, but it just wasn't happening. He crossed the room with a few easy strides, and before his common sense caught up with his impulses, or before anyone could shout out a warning, Jim's hand landed consolingly on the Vulcan's undamaged shoulder.

Not one of his best ideas, he abruptly realised when he found himself being slammed bodily against the nearest wall, his feet dangling a good few inches off the ground while a slender bandaged hand gripped him by the neck. Cerulean eyes glared into his with nothing but pure undiluted fury as the Captain's airway was clamped firmly shut beneath her greenish fingers.

"_Don't touch me!"_ She snarled, her voice thick with venomous rage. Jim gagged and choked, trying to pull her hand from his throat, cursing Vulcan superior strength when no matter how hard he yanked, she didn't budge an inch.

"T'Amona!!" Damien shouted from where he'd been abruptly left alone on his biobed. Jim could see the expression of horror and disbelief on his freckled face as he stretched his hand out towards them as though he was attempting to pull the enraged girl back from the other side of the room. But before he had chance to throw back the covers and run over to them, a larger green-skinned hand seized hold of the girl's bandaged wrist.

Both she and Jim looked up to find Spock standing incredibly close, the look on his face unmistakeably the same as it had been that time on the bridge when he himself had strangled Jim. And Jim instantly felt sorry for the girl who was about to be on the receiving end of a severely pissed-yet-logical reprimanding from Spock. And by reprimanding, he meant he was about to make her feel like shit in the space of about three seconds.

"Release the Captain immediately, or I will forcibly remove you from him." Spock ordered, the tone of his voice almost as cold as hers. Jim's vision was starting to turn hazy, black creeping in from the corners. His lungs ached for oxygen and he could feel his pulse pounding unbearably hard through his head, making it difficult for him to think straight. Luckily for him, his First Officer's threat had managed to cut through the girl's rage and she instantly let go, stepping back gracefully as Captain Kirk came crashing to the floor with a hell of a lot less grace.

Bones was swiftly by his side, his hands going straight under Jim's armpits as he heaved him back to his feet. Jim held onto him, coughing harshly and massaging his throat until the room stopped spinning and he could breathe properly again. He couldn't actually see his attacker anymore, since the back of a blue uniform shirt and a head of sleek dark hair in front of him were obstructing his view.

Spock stood between the girl and the Captain like he was his own personal bodyguard, blocking Jim from view and harm with his deceptively slender form. And Jim had to admit he was surprised. Hell, he was more than surprised! Who would've thought it? Spock acting Jim's very own Vulcan shield to protect him from other psychotic Vulcans. Not Jim, that's for damn sure.

"I advise you to keep your distance. If you attempt to murder the Captain again, you will spend the rest of the voyage below. Do you understand?" Spock warned her. By 'below' he meant locked up in one of the cells in the brig. Basically, the threat was: Try to kill Jim, end up in jail. Only it sounded much more impressive and foreboding coming from Spock.

The girl didn't answer. Jim peered around his First Officer and saw that she wasn't even looking at Spock, instead staring down at her splayed bandaged hands as though she couldn't believe what she'd just done. Jim would've bet his new Captain's chair that she hadn't even been listening to the older Vulcan.

"T'Amona!" Damien cried, darting over to them after he'd wrestled himself free of the bedsheets. Jim suddenly realised that that was the Vulcan girl's name, whereas before he'd thought the kid just been murmuring incoherent words having just woken up. He looked about ready to fling his arms around the girl once more, but he threw on the brakes when he was less than a foot away from her. And when Jim looked back at her, he immediately saw why.

T'Amona was no longer looking at her hands. She had folded them demurely in front of her, and her head was bowed so all Jim could see was the crown of her onyx head. Her sapphire eyes were fixed on the ground at her feet and her long hair had fallen forwards, hiding her elfin features behind two curtains of black.

A jolt of unease shot through Jim's chest. The way she held herself… humble and submissive, making eye contact with no one… He'd seen this pose before. But not from her.

_This was exactly how his mother used to look whenever Frank started with her. Every time he lost his temper, every time he shouted the house down, every time he abused Winona Kirk. She always looked like this. It was always the same._

And he was seeing it all over again in the Vulcan girl named T'Amona.

"Forgive me." She whispered. Jim's heart clenched again. "I shouldn't have… I don't know why I…"

Her entwined fingers were twitching like a couple of dying spiders, and Damien leaned close to her and laid his smaller palm over her injured hands. He stared up at her, his eyes clear and warm despite being ringed with red from crying. T'Amona glanced down at him and swallowed audibly, her throat working hard.

"I need to meditate." She eventually spoke again, her voice even less than a whisper now.

Feeling strangely helpless and confused, Jim glanced back at his First Officer for guidance. Spock was frowning openly, his forehead creased the deepest Jim had ever seen it. And that wasn't all that he could see. What looked to be repulsion and incomprehension swirled in the depths of his rich chocolate-coloured irises, and at that moment, Jim could truly recognise the human side of the half-Vulcan.

Damien patted T'Amona's hand before rounding on the Captain, glaring up at him as though it had been entirely Jim's fault that the boy's Vulcan friend had tried to kill him.

"Who are you and where are we?" He demanded with so much authority that Jim actually blinked at him in surprise.

"I'm Jim Kirk, Captain of the USS _Enterprise_." Jim told him, "This is Spock and Dr McCoy. We're heading for New Vulcan to deliver some important cargo."

Damien surveyed him with scrutiny for a few moments. Jim stared back at him, smiling pleasantly. After a while, the kid muttered something and wrinkled his nose, flicking his gaze from Jim, to Spock, then back again, ignoring McCoy completely.

"Are they part of the 'important cargo'?" He asked. Jim frowned at him.

"What? Who?"

"T'Amona and Spock. Are they part of the cargo you need to deliver? I heard my mum and dad talking. They said the planet the Vulcans lived on has been destroyed, and that every Vulcan in the universe was being transported to New Vulcan to help rebuild their race. That's what you want T'Amona for. And Spock too."

The kid suddenly stopped there, realisation dawning on his youthful face.

"Wait, aren't you…"

"Damien." T'Amona cut across him, the tone of her voice firm even though she still hadn't lifted her head and made eye contact with anyone. The way she said his name sounded almost like a warning to Jim, and the boy obviously took it that way because he reluctantly fell silent but continued to stare up at Spock in curiosity and suspicion.

"I need to meditate." T'Amona repeated.

Jim nodded and turned to Bones, who had been watching the whole thing from the sidelines and hadn't said a single word yet.

"Bones, what d'you think? Are they well enough to be discharged from here?" He asked. Bones gave him a wry smile, shaking his head slightly in a mixture of exasperation and amusement.

"I think it's pretty obvious they're well enough, Jim. The fact that they're actually on their feet and trying to kill you kinda gave it away."

"Hey, I haven't tried to kill him yet!" Damien cried indignantly.

"Notice how you said 'yet', kid."

"I would never kill him." T'Amona murmured quietly, but everyone heard her. And everyone stared at her incredulously. Well, not everyone. Spock was doing a pretty good impression of a Vulcan statue and Jim would've thought he'd actually died standing up if it weren't for the telltale rising and falling of his chest as he breathed.

"That statement is a contradiction to your previous actions." His First Officer stated, not even looking at the smaller Vulcan, staring at a fixed point on the wall a little above her head.

T'Amona shook her head and didn't answer.

"You leave her alone!" Damien growled at Spock, moving to stand in front of T'Amona in the same protective way Spock had stood in front of Jim. His brown eyes narrowed almost into slits and his mouth was stretched taut in an angry slash across his face. "You've got no idea what she's been through!"

Spock stared the boy down effortlessly, his calm gaze such a contrast to the heated vehemence in the young Terran's eyes.

"We are both in the same situation. The planet that was taken from us was as much mine as it was hers. I carry the burden of our loss as heavily as she does."

"That's not what I meant! She's hurt really bad! Can't you see that? The last thing she needs right now is people like _you_ making everything worse, especially after what happened back at the…"

"Damien, stop. Please." T'Amona interrupted once more, this time pleadingly. Damien worriedly glanced back over his shoulder at her and then looked away miserably, his shoulders slumping as though he carried the weight of the world on them. _Poor kid_. He'd just lost his family, and the only person he has left is a seriously troubled Vulcan girl who probably needs more help than he does.

'_Especially after what happened back at the what? What are these two hiding from us?' _

The kid brought his gaze back to meet Jim's.

"Can we go now?" He asked despondently. Jim smiled at him reassuringly and the boy managed a weak half-hearted twitch of his lips in return.

"Yeah, sure you can go. Right, Bones?"

"Hang on, let me scan you first, just to make sure." Bones replied, seemingly whipping his trusty tricorder out of nowhere and proceeded to wave it over the boy. Damien looked quite scared now, staring uneasily at the device in Bones's hand as it passed over every inch of his body, reading his vital signs and displaying them to the Doctor.

"You're fine." Bones grunted to the relieved boy before moving forwards to do the same to T'Amona. Without looking up, she dodged gracefully out of his reach, the meaning crystal clear. McCoy swore under his breath and pocketed his tricorder, turning away from the Vulcan female.

"And apparently she's fine too." He muttered as he walked towards the previously occupied biobed and proceeded to straighten out the covers, pointedly ignoring the others crowding his sickbay. Jim could tell he was irritated. It didn't take a genius to figure that one out.

"Mr Spock," Jim addressed his First Officer. "Please show our guests to their temporary quarters."

Spock inclined his head to him slightly in acknowledgement, also looking less than impressed with their newest 'guests'.

"Yes, Captain." He answered smartly, turning on his heel and proceeding to make his way out of the medbay, Damien and T'Amona not far behind. Just as she got to the doorway, T'Amona raised her head and looked back at Jim with an unreadable expression on her face, those bright azure eyes of hers piercing directly into his. She opened her mouth to say something, but caught herself at the last moment and swiftly exited the room after Spock and Damien without a second glance, the doors sliding silently shut behind her.

Jim sighed heavily, running one hand through his hair while the other came up to massage his bruised throat.

"Why is it that every Vulcan you meet, they all end up trying to kill you somewhere along the line?" Bones inquired dryly. Jim glanced over to find his best friend standing with his hands on his hips, his head tilted to the side in amusement as he stared at him.

"Hardly _every_ Vulcan, Bones. Just the crazy ones." Jim retorted, feeling about a hundred years old instead of twenty-five. "And anyway, it's not only the Vulcans who want to kill me, but quite a few other species as well."

"Yeah, usually within the first ten seconds of meeting you." Bones agreed. Jim snorted in response but didn't deny it. The truth hurt, after all.

"To be honest, I'm surprised you ever lived past twenty."

"You and me both, Bonesy. You and me both."

They shared a comfortable silence for a couple of seconds, the only sound Bones's shoes squeaking on the floor and his clothes rustling as he fussed around the biobeds, finishing tidying the covers and replacing all his medical tools and instruments he'd used back to their respective places.

"Something isn't right." Bones announced, and Jim jumped slightly, having not expected him to speak. He didn't bother asking what he meant, because he had a pretty good idea already.

"You feel it too, huh?"

"Yeah… that Vulcan's injuries, they couldn't have come from the boy's family. No way. We all saw how the kid was all over her like a Goddamn _rash_, and he's the only one she'd let touch her. We're missing something here, Jim. Something big."

"So what if we are, Bones? She's not going to tell us. Hell, she wouldn't even let the kid tell us." Jim groaned. An idea suddenly sprung to form in his head and he stood up a little straighter, a hopeful smile spreading across his handsome face. "Hey, d'you think we should get Spock to talk to her? I bet he could get it out of her, Vulcan to Vulcan, y'know?"

Bones looked at him as though he'd just shouted that he wanted to bend him over the nearest biobed and ride him like a cowgirl. And even though that idea was a damn scary one, Jim had to admit that the expression on McCoy's face was absolutely fucking hilarious.

"Are you insane, Jim?" Bones gaped at him like he couldn't believe the blond Captain's stupidity. "Didn't you see the way Spock was looking at her? He's disgusted by her, Jim."

"What're you talking about? Sure, he looked a little more tense than usual, but he wasn't disgusted."

"You didn't see his eyes. He was disgusted alright. Don't forget that an emotional Vulcan isn't exactly welcomed with open arms to the rest of them, Jim. And I'll be damned if she wasn't the most emotional Vulcan I've ever seen. Even Spock isn't that emotional, and he's half human for God's sake!"

Come to think of it, Jim realised Bones had a very good point there. After that incident in the bridge where Spock had seized Jim by the throat and throttled him against the control panel until his legs had almost quit kicking, the Vulcan hybrid had regretted his illogical and emotional actions for God knows how long. He probably still hadn't forgiven himself for his raw human display in front of everyone. And his father had been there too. That was the worst part of it, Jim knew. Spock felt like he had failed his father, failed his Vulcan heritage. And it was entirely Jim's fault. Maybe that's another reason why he and his First Officers weren't exactly bosom buddies right now.

"Fuck." Jim swore. "That's just great. The last thing we need around here is a Vulcan pissing match, Bones. I can already see that happening. The minute the shock wears off and she goes back to her logical self, she's going to be a carbon copy of Spock, and they're going to absolutely despise each other. I just know it! Coping with _one_ of them was hard enough, but _two_…" Jim looked up and levelled Bones with a tired knowing stare. "This is going to feel like the longest voyage of our lives, Bones."

"You don't have to point out the obvious to me, Jim." Bones drawled, rubbing the bridge of his nose wearily. "All I can say is that I'm glad most of my time is spent down here instead of on the bridge. The only time I'm going to see either of them in the next few days is if they suddenly fall ill or if they both lose their rags and try to kill each other. Other than that, there'll be no Vulcans crowding my sickbay."

"You'll probably be seeing a lot more of me, though." Jim chuckled, grinning widely at the older man. Bones smirked straight back at him.

"Yeah, trying to stop you from killing yourself."

"Actually, I was thinking I might 'accidentally' maroon myself somewhere."

"Not Delta Vega, I hope. You nearly got eaten last time."

"Hell no, not Delta Vega. I'd rather be castrated than go back there."

"And then you'd lose your will to live along with your most frequently used body part."

"Ouch, harsh, Bones. I'll have you know I haven't slept with anyone since Gaila, and that was _ages_ ago."

"Hardly ages, Jim. But I have to admit I'm surprised you've lasted this long without sex. Must be a record for you, hm?"

"Oh, har-de-har, Dr Comic Genius. Just because you haven't been laid since the Stone Age."

"The Stone Age? Well, maybe that's because I actually _have_ standards, unlike some, Jim, since you'd sleep with any slut who opened her legs for you, even if she had blue skin or five sets of eyes or something. Hell, even if she had _tentacles_ instead of legs, you'd still screw her." Bones retorted. Jim laughed loudly, admitting defeat as he threw his arm around Bones's shoulders.

"Ah, I love you Bonesy. This place would be just so damn boring without you and your sunny disposition to brighten my day." Jim grinned, gripping his friend in a one-armed hug. Bones rolled his eyes and grumbled, but he didn't pull away. He allowed himself to be hugged for a few seconds before taking hold on Jim's wrist and ducking out from under his arm.

"Go on, get outta here Jim. You've got a ship to captain, remember?"

"How could I ever forget, Bones?"

Jim flashed him the infamous James T. Kirk grin, the one that never failed to make every female life form within a ten-metre radius melt into a puddle of goo. Unless one of those female life forms happened to be Lieutenant Uhura, of course. Somehow she managed to resist the blond Captain's charms, something that Jim just couldn't comprehend. Not that he let that stop him every time he tried and failed to seduce the young woman, and got his ass handed to him as a result.

Speaking of getting his ass handed to him, Jim was still amazed at how much strength that Vulcan girl possessed in that tiny slender frame of hers. Sure, he knew they were naturally stronger than humans, but for some weird reason, Jim had taken one look at her and just instinctively assumed that she was a fragile delicate young girl. Boy, had he sure got _that _one wrong. She'd lifted him up into the air, for crying out loud! His feet had actually left the ground! How the hell did that happen?

Jim rubbed his throat again, wincing.

Bones was instantly in his face, whipping his tricorder out so fast that he almost gave Jim a third nostril.

"Can you breathe alright? Do you feel any obstruction in your airway? Dammit Jim, don't downplay this. If it hurts, tell me. For all we know that pointy-eared green-blooded pixie could've crushed your larynx." Bones ranted, scanning Jim's throat at least three times, just to make sure. Jim swallowed experimentally and he felt Bones's fingers ride against the ridges of his windpipe with the action.

"I'm fine, Bones. Really. And if she'd crushed my larynx, would I even be able to talk right now? Or, more importantly, breathe?" He pointed out. Bones didn't reply, glaring at him instead over the top of his tricorder. Jim wisely shut up then, knowing the good doctor was mere moments away from pulling out one of the many hyposprays that lived in his pocket and jabbing him with it out of spite.

"Just bruised, by the looks of it. Could've been worse." Bones paused for a minute, looking thoughtful as he frowned at Jim's neck, scrutinising his newest bruises with such intensity that Jim thought it was a miracle he didn't burn twin holes through his throat with his eyes. "Actually… It _should've_ been worse. Judging by how angry she was, she could've easily caused some serious internal damage to your throat, but for some reason she held herself back. Huh. Seems like she really did mean what she said about how she would never kill you."

"I usually have that effect on women." Jim quipped back, but inside he was thinking along the same lines. Why did she hold back? Why would she never kill him? And why doesn't she like to be touched? Ok, yeah, every Vulcan hated to be touched, but she just took that to a whole new level. T'Amona wasn't your everyday average Vulcan, that's for damn sure. And if she had been an everyday average Vulcan at some point in time, then she must've been in some seriously deep shit to turn her into how she was now. _Poor girl. What happened to you, T'Amona? What changed you?_

"Keep an eye on her, Jim." Bones warned, stepping back and taking his tricorder with him. "She's a really troubled young girl. She isn't thinking straight, lashing out in anger, and she has total physical aversion to everyone's touch but the kid's, and these aren't good signs at all. Whatever you do, don't piss her off, Jim. A troubled Vulcan is a damn dangerous Vulcan, and one wrong move could just about be the last thing you ever do. And Spock won't always be around to save your hide like today."

Jim chuckled, although that thought made him slightly uneasy. He'd already been on the receiving end of a pissed off Vulcan, and that'd almost been the last thing he'd ever done. And then today too, with a different but similarly pissed of Vulcan. Jim really hoped that it wasn't going to be third time lucky for the next Vulcan who decided to throttle him.

"Aw, c'mon Bones, she said she'd never kill me." He pointed out. Bones frowned, deep lines etching themselves across his forehead.

"If I'm right then she might not be able to stop herself. With such large cranial capacities, Vulcans are increasingly susceptible to brain-related illnesses and diseases, more than twice the risk we humans are."

"Meaning we have a Vulcan onboard who's one more confrontation away from losing her marbles."

"Exactly. If she starts acting any more odd than she already is doing, you gotta let me know Jim, and I swear I'll hypospray her so fast she won't even see me coming. The last thing we need right now is a volatile Vulcan roaming the _Enterprise_."

"You got it, Bones." Jim nodded. He'd already intended to keep a close eye on their mysterious female guest. He was completely intrigued. Such injuries… the way she acted… so much emotion in her unusual coloured eyes… She was, to steal one of his First Officer's favourite words, _fascinating_. And the fact that she was a damn pretty girl made him all the more eager to learn as much as he could about her…

"Don't even think about it, Jim." Bones's voice cut through his thoughts, and Jim came back to reality with a bump, blinking at the Doctor.

"What?" He asked, his eyes widening with mock-innocence. Bones rolled his eyes and slapped his palm to his forehead harshly.

"Please, for the love of all that is _holy_, please Jim, don't go down that road. I know you have your reputation of a womaniser to uphold and all, but if you really value your life, don't go for the Vulcan!" Bones groaned. Jim grinned at him. Womaniser? Huh, he'd half expected Bones to call him a manwhore. Same thing really, but maybe womaniser was a bit less insulting. To him, anyway.

"Relax Bones, I'm not _that_ suicidal."

Bones glanced up at him, his eyes narrowing critically.

"She probably too young for you anyway." He pointed out. Jim shrugged, conceding the point.

"Yeah, probably. But _maybe_ she looks younger than she actually is. You never know."

"And I bet you intend to find out, don't you?"

Jim's grin grew by a couple of molars.

"Damn straight I do!" He laughed. Bones shook his head, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like _"The next time she tries to strangle you, I hope she does a better job of it."_

"You and me both, Bonesy!" Jim chuckled, ducking out of the sickbay before Bones could grab a hypospray and fling it after him like a dart.

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**Might be a while until I update this next, I've got really behind on Are You Afraid Of The Dark and I Can't Believe I Love You. I've been neglecting them for too long, so I need to work on them right now before some of my readers end up actually murdering me. Alex, Clare, you know who you are! XD**

**Anyways, hoped you like, go ahead and leave me a review will ya? Pretty please! ^^**

**See ya next time!**


	4. Chapter 4

Heya people, long time no see! :D God, it's been ages since I've updated any fanfic ¬¬

I'm only just getting back into this, so be gentle with me ^^

This is sort of a filler, but a long filler... and kinda necessary too. So it's not really a filler after all... I'll just shut up now :)

Read on and review for me, thanks! ^^

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**Star date: 2258**

**_Location: _USS _Enterprise_**

T'Amona sat cross-legged on the soft carpet in the middle of the room where she'd remained for however many hours had passed since leaving the medical bay, her eyes closed and her hands folded neatly on her lap, her head bowed so her long ebony locks hung low around her face, shining gold in the flickering light of the few scented candles she had surrounded herself with. The soothing fragrance of magnolia caressed her skin, smoothing away the tension in her muscles and mind with just their scent alone. But even then, her thoughts were in a flurry of uncontrollable turmoil and her frown grew infinitesimally deeper the longer she meditated until it became all too noticeable.

"I thought the point of you doing that was supposed to relax you, not piss you off." Damien suddenly spoke and T'Amona was ashamed to admit that she jumped slightly at the unexpected sound of his voice. He'd respected just how badly she'd needed silence in order for her to focus fully on her meditation, and had done a good job of keeping as quiet as he could so he wouldn't disturb her. It must've been incredibly boring for the young Terran, but he'd managed admirably up until now. T'Amona resisted the urge to glance back over her shoulder to the bed where he sat and she shook her head from side to side, concentrating so fiercely that her pulse pounded uncomfortably through her nose from the pressure.

Silence stretched and filled the room once more, but T'Amona was anything but peaceful. She wanted to fidget, to yawn, to stretch out and lounge back on the carpet. But she didn't. She couldn't. Her Vulcan heritage just outright refused to let her, despite how much the prudish thoughts and etiquette expected of her made disgust rise like bile in her throat.

"T'Amona, stop, please." Damien murmured softly, almost pleadingly. "It's not working, I can see that from here."

"Nothing here makes _sense!_" T'Amona hissed viciously, a sudden burst of illogical white-hot fury ripping through her chest like a heated blade. She longed to grab her head in her hands and scream her frustration and confusion loud enough to wake the whole crew of the _Enterprise_, but to stop herself she clenched her bandaged hands into fists so tight that she winced from the pain it caused and bit down hard on her bottom lip until she could taste the dark green copper-based liquid that pumped through her veins.

She heard Damien's weight shift off the bed and then the sound of his footfalls on the carpet as he approached her. With a small sigh, he dropped down to the floor directly in front of her. Curious, T'Amona eased open one cerulean eye and stared at the Terran child. He was sat exactly how she was: legs folded, back straight, hands on his lap. The only trait he had that she lacked right now was just how casual the young boy managed to make himself look, despite this not being one of the most comfortable positions in the universe. His eyes were warm and calm, although T'Amona could still clearly make out the dried tear tracks that ran the length of his cheeks.

"Talk to me, alien girl. What doesn't make any sense?" Damien inquired gently, reaching out to comfortingly brush the back of her hand with his fingertips. If it had been anyone else, T'Amona would've instinctively snapped their fingers in a heartbeat, but she was growing accustomed to the way he kept touching her hands. It seemed to be a way of reassuring himself as well as reassuring her. And she couldn't really blame him for that, especially after everything that's happened.

"None of it. All of it. I don't know!" T'Amona replied, her irritation making her voice tremor. She was trying so hard to remain coolly logical and detached from the emotional situation, trying so hard to be a Vulcan, but now she was driven by nothing but impulses and aggression. Never had she known her control to be so far out of her reach.

"Talk to me." Damien repeated, sounding so much wiser than his years. T'Amona tipped her head upwards towards the ceiling, her eyes staying shut as she inhaled deeply through gritted teeth, clawing self-control back to her by the very tips of her fingernails.

"This isn't right." She reluctantly admitted, the words leaving her mouth as though they'd physically been punched out of her. "None of this is right, it shouldn't… it can't be… I don't understand _what_…"

T'Amona growled through her teeth in frustration, twinges of aching pain spreading from where her temple throbbed. Damien sighed again, staring at her sympathetically.

"Ok, now you're the one who's not making any sense. Rewind a bit and start from the beginning."

"I _can't_ start from the beginning. There is no beginning! This place… this time… it's all wrong. I don't belong here. I'm… so far from home, I…"

Damien frowned, chewing on his bottom lip thoughtfully as he tried to make sense of her jumbled words. His blond hair was sticking up in a mess of gravity-defying tufts from where he'd obviously ran his hands through it several times while she'd been deep in meditation. The poor kid looked more of a mess than T'Amona felt. His whole demeanour was just physically, mentally and emotionally drained, and she could see the vast amount of pain and grief swirling in the chocolate depths of his eyes, despite how well he hid it beneath a peaceful facade.

"Back at the house…" Damien began, belatedly remembering something, "When you first woke up, you thought I was someone else. You called me Spock. And that man… the Vulcan First Officer. _He's _Spock, isn't he? The one you were looking for? Well, you've found him now, so what's the problem?"

T'Amona tore her gaze from the young Terran boy, turning her head to stare instead towards the opposite wall. Ah, the problem. There were too many problems to list right now.

"The problem is that he's not _my_ Spock." She murmured softly, one bandaged hand reaching up to brush a stray lock of onyx hair back behind her delicately pointed ear as she compared the two Spocks in her mind. The one she knew and loved: the older, more relaxed and emotional Spock, and the one she'd just met: the younger, more emotionally repressed half-Vulcan who absolutely despised her within seconds of meeting her. T'Amona felt horribly familiar tears prickling her eyes, but hastily blinked them back before they could fall. Just knowing that Spock hated her, even though it wasn't her Spock, made her heart break.

Damien's frown deepened in confusion.

"I don't understand."

"You don't need to understand, Terran." T'Amona retorted more sharply than she'd intended to. An expression of hurt washed across Damien's features and T'Amona's heart clenched guiltily in her chest. This wasn't his fault. It was wrong for her to take her frustration out on him.

"I'm sorry, Damien." She said, her voice barely louder than a whisper as she folded her hands in her lap and inclined her head to him apologetically, respectfully avoiding eye contact with him as she did so. To a Vulcan, this was the picture of contrition, and she hoped to convey the same to the boy.

"Stop doing that!" Damien shouted angrily, leaping to his feet so fast that T'Amona didn't even have chance to register that he'd moved. Her head snapped back to stare up at the suddenly furious child, the previous softness in his eyes turning harder than steel as he glared down at the Vulcan girl.

"What're you talking about?" She asked, nothing in her logical thoughts that could explain his unexpected outburst. Had she missed something? Maybe he'd misinterpreted her body language, but she couldn't understand how. The meaning had been clear, after all.

A rush of colour spread up the young boy's neck and face, and his glare was so fierce that a lesser person would've winced under the intensity of it. But T'Amona was not a lesser person. She was Vulcan. So she refused to let her expression change, other than returning from mildly surprised to its usual stoic neutrality.

"_That!_ Where you look down like that and act all different! It's not right. It's not you, T'Amona." Damien cried out in exasperation. She blinked at him, then turned her head to the side, averting her gaze away from the Terran child. Now she realised what he meant.

"I know it's not me, Damien, but it isn't wrong. It's how I'm supposed to act as a female of my race, and I'm... not very good at it." She said that last part almost to herself, pulling her hands back to rest on her thighs, then wincing at the pressure against the phaser burn on her left leg she'd momentarily forgotten about.

Damien noticed her flinch and immediately leant forwards, his teeth finding his bottom lip again in worry.

"Are you ok?" He asked. A stupid question really, considering how obvious the answer was just by looking at the sorry state of her, but she answered nonetheless.

"I will be." She assured him with a weak smile, resisting the urge to massage her tender throat. Her bruises were on show for the whole universe to see, even when they were hidden beneath her clothes. She could deny their existence from herself, but she couldn't pretend when others knew about them. Like Doctor Leonard McCoy. Oh, he was so different from the McCoy she knew. Younger, obviously. But also a little more handsome and a lot more grouchy. It'd been almost a comfort seeing him again.

Captain James T. Kirk too. He was here, in his rightful place in command of his ship the USS Enterprise and not… where she'd previously thought him to be. And she was still thanking her lucky stars for that. This was another time, another place. Maybe, just maybe, the Vulcan she knew still existed …

"T'Amona?" Damien's soft voice brought her back to her senses. "T'Amona, I just want to… thank you… for everything you've done for me… back at the house, with the fire and that man…"

"Don't thank me, Damien." T'Amona interrupted him, anger starting to burn in the pit of her stomach, forcing its way up her throat like bile. She tried to fight the irrational emotion back, but it refused to be completely restrained. "It's because of me that all this has happened to you. Your house burnt down to the ground because of me. Your parents… they died because of me. He killed them because of me!"

"No, that's not true, you didn't know…"

"It was unacceptable! I should've known! I should've anticipated that I'd be followed after my escape, that he'd send someone after me to either take me back or finish the job, but I made a fatal misjudgement, Damien." She tore her gaze from his, seething with fury at herself as she focused almost unblinkingly on the flickering flame of the nearest candle, the orange glare dancing in the cerulean depths of her eyes. "I won't make the same mistake twice. I've already caused enough damage in this time, I can't afford to cause any more, especially when there's so much at stake."

"In this time?" Damien echoed, picking out this crucial bit of information she hadn't intended to share, his brow furrowing as he stared at her. "What d'you mean? Aren't you… from this time?"

She didn't look at him as she leaned forwards to blow out each candle and gather them together in her bandaged hands, careful of the hot dripping wax. T'Amona rose from her position on the floor with natural grace, crossing the room and replacing the candles back to where she'd first found them in one of the drawers in their new accommodation.

"Do you know what the current star date is?" She asked, keeping her back turned to the young Terran, sliding the drawer slowly shut as she kept her eyes fixed on the wall in front of her, not yet wanting to turn back to face him.

"Um, yeah. Two thousand two hundred and fifty eight, I think." Damien answered after a few moments' thought. T'Amona allowed a small wry smile to twitch the corner of her lips, bringing one hand up to absently touch her throat. Her fingernails scraped over a stray spot of dried blood on her greenish skin and she scratched it away uncaringly, allowing herself to turn her head slightly to the right so she could just see the kid out of the corner of her eye. Damien had gotten to his feet and was wavering uncertainly, looking as though he couldn't decide between moving towards her and staying where he was. His face was alight with wonder and awe as T'Amona turned to face him fully, her hands clasped lightly in front of her.

"In my time, the star date was two thousand three hundred and eighty seven, and I was born in two thousand three hundred and sixty seven." She told him with the smallest sigh of reluctance, tilting her head slightly to the side as she awaited his reaction. And the human did not disappoint.

"_No way!_" He cried out loud, his voice echoing loudly around the enclosed space, so loudly that T'Amona winced at the brief spike of pain it caused her overly-sensitive Vulcan hearing. "You're telling me you're from the future?! No freaking way, alien girl! If that's right, then you haven't even been _born_ over here yet, you've got like another hundred years to go before you actually exist!"

"One hundred and eleven years." T'Amona corrected. "But I haven't just travelled back in time, Damien. Based on everything that's happened, I believe I've travelled back to an alternate reality that was somehow created by the Romulan Nero when his ship was pulled into the supernova that destroyed his home planet. I'm still unsure as to exactly what happened and how, but that's just my basic assumption for now. In this timeline, I may never be born. It's possible that the future has already been changed so much so that I may never come to exist at all."

Silence fell between them as her words sunk into both their heads. She'd known this information for a while now, but this was the first time she'd spoken it aloud. It was a chilling concept to consider, and it struck her to the core.

"I… still don't really understand. Tell me everything, T'Amona. I want to know how this all happened and how you ended up… like you are now." Damien spoke after a few moments, his voice slicing through the hush like a blade as he obviously struggled to make sense of what she'd told him. T'Amona flinched imperceptibly, pointedly avoiding looking at her hands when he gestured towards them.

"Not now, Damien." She murmured softly, shaking her head slightly. He frowned and opened his mouth to protest, but she silenced him with a simple tired look.

"You need to rest so you can recover properly. You should've attempted to do so whilst I was meditating." T'Amona said gently. Damien lifted his chin in stubborn defiance, glaring at her fiercely with narrowed eyes. She chuckled internally, realising that that was probably exactly how she looked whenever she rebelled and got reprimanded for it from the elders, which, admittedly, had happened quite often.

"I'm fine, I don't need to rest. You're hurt more than me, T'Amona, so you should be the one who needs to recover."

"I don't just mean physical injuries. You've lost your parents and your home, therefore you're emotionally and psychologically damaged too."

"You just lost your entire _planet!_" Damien shot back, now looking more furious than defiant. T'Amona levelled him with her best cold stare, keeping her elfin features as impassive as she could, even though that seemed to irritate the human child more. She refused to concede that he'd made a valid point.

"I am Vulcan." She told him coolly.

"That doesn't change anything!"

"Yes it does. Vulcans aren't ruled by their emotions the way humans are, and we rely on logic and reasoning to ensure we don't fall victim to irrationality and chaos. I'm naturally more equipped to handle these situations than you are."

"So you're saying that you feel nothing at all?"

"Yes."

"Bullshit!" Damien swore, his vehemence so strong that T'Amona blinked in surprise, taken aback by such an intense response from someone so young. He strode purposefully towards her, looking like he fully intended to seize her by the front of the robes and shake her until she saw sense. A ridiculous idea, considering that he'd seen how she'd reacted in the medical bay and knew that she was much stronger than a fully-grown Terran man, never mind a young boy like him. Thankfully, he came to a halt a few feet in front of her and clenched his fists tightly by his sides to make sure he kept his hands to himself. Smart kid.

"Damien, please don't argue with me. I'm not… I'm not in full control of myself right now, and I don't want to cause either of us any more distress than we're already experiencing." T'Amona sighed, unintentionally letting her stoic mask fall for a couple of seconds, long enough for Damien to get a good look at just how completely drained she was at that moment. Almost as soon as her control slipped, it returned at full force, her features even harder than before from the embarrassment of her brief mistake. Damien's teeth found his lip again as he nibbled it anxiously.

"I'm sorry." He mumbled, his hand reaching up to rub the back of his head in frustration. "I shouldn't shout at you, you haven't done anything wrong. I just needed to vent, is all."

"I understand." She acquiesced, tilting her head towards him in a half-nod. "It's a natural Terran instinct to expel negative emotions in such a way."

Damien chuckled, allowing a small smile to spread across his freckled face.

"Not only a Terran instinct, alien girl." He said slyly, giving her a knowing look from beneath his unruly tresses of golden hair. T'Amona instantly realised what he referring to and a hot flush of shame stained her cheeks green. What she'd done... it was inexcusable. There wasn't even a reason she could think of to explain why she'd acted like she had. She'd almost strangled James T. Kirk! That could've been disastrous, but luckily for both her and him, she'd held herself back enough that she managed not to crush his throat. Small mercies, as it were. If she'd inadvertently killed him… It wasn't a pleasant thought, put it that way, since there was so much more at stake here in this timeline.

"I need to leave for a while, Damien." T'Amona suddenly announced, and Damien's head snapped up so fast that several vertebrae in his spine creaked in protest. His bright brown eyes were almost double their normal size in fear as he stared at her as though she'd just told him that she was leaving him forever.

"What? Why?" He asked, his voice catching a little in his throat. T'Amona's heart clenched in a vice-like grip in her chest and she gave in to the Terran urge to bring her hand down to rest reassuringly on his small shoulder. The boy was still dressed in the soot-blackened, burnt, torn clothes he'd been wearing back at the house, as was she. The grime on his clothing felt strange beneath her damaged fingertips, but she tried not to dwell on it as she regarded the young human with sincere cobalt eyes.

"I have to find the Captain and apologise for my earlier behaviour. Don't worry, I'll be back soon." Damien didn't look totally convinced, so she leaned closer to him, placing her other hand on his other shoulder, ignoring the dull ache of her previously dislocated arm as she did so, staring him deep in the eyes so he could see just how honest and serious she was. "Damien. I will come back. Trust me."

Damien blinked up at her almost shyly from beneath his eyelashes, chewing on his bottom lip.

"Promise?"

"Vulcans never lie." She assured him, giving him a small smile which he hesitantly returned. He still seemed unsure about being left on his own in this unfamiliar place, but T'Amona could see that despite only knowing her for a short period of time, the Terran boy trusted her completely. It was a lot of weight on her shoulders, bearing his trust, but she vowed to herself that she'd never let him down. She was all he had left now.

"You'd better come back, or I'll kick your ass." He muttered under his breath as he half-heartedly scowled in her direction, and T'Amona's lips quirked upwards into an amused smirk at his words. He threw himself bodily backwards onto the double bed, sprawling out across the covers with an exaggerated groan of annoyance, kicking his shoes off the edge so he didn't get dirty footprints all over the clean sheets.

"Get yourself ready for bed." T'Amona told him fondly, and he propped himself up onto his elbows so he could see her. "I expect you to be asleep when I get back."

"I'll wait up for you, ok?" Damien replied quickly, his gaze anxious as it darted between T'Amona and the door. Her heart squelched again in her ribcage at the panic in his expression and she let her posture relax slightly with a tiny sigh of acceptance.

"Ok." She agreed, giving him one final smile before she turned and keyed in the code on the door panel and the doors slid soundlessly open. Damien watched her as she left the room, limping almost unnoticeably on her wounded leg, her hair flicking out behind her and shimmering in the light like an ebony waterfall.

The doors closed behind her, and Damien was left alone.

* * *

Jim was in his quarters, lounging back on the chair by his desk, chomping loudly on a replicated apple as he stared down at the pile of paperwork that had suddenly appeared out of nowhere in the nine hours that had swiftly passed since the _Enterprise_ had set off from Earth. He hadn't touched a single one of them yet, and he didn't really intend to anytime soon. Spending his free time off-duty on written reports wasn't exactly Jim's idea of fun.

He took another large bite and chewed the mouthful of fruit thoughtfully, his hand absently brushing against his bruised neck. He winced when he swallowed, the action hurting his already painful throat, but he wasn't really that bothered about it. When you've had the ever living shit kicked out of you as many times as James Tiberius Kirk has, then you build up a tolerance for this kind of thing. It happens often enough that it almost seemed like instinct for Jim to just block it out and get on with it. Sure, his throat hurt like hell, but it was nothing compared to how much it'd hurt on the bridge after Spock had throttled him against the ship's controls.

_Ah, Spock._ Jim got such a kick out of pushing his Vulcan First Officer's buttons, but contrary to popular belief, he did know exactly where to draw the line. He'd already crossed it once and got strangled as a result, and although he knew that it'd been necessary at the time to 'emotionally compromise' Spock, he still felt like a complete heartless bastard even now. Telling Spock that he never loved his mother so soon after she'd fallen to her death on Vulcan was the lowest blow he could've ever dealt, not to mention the most unforgivable. He still hadn't apologised for that, he realised. No wonder Spock hated him so much. Well… maybe 'hate' is too strong a word. Spock… severely disliked him. Yeah, that's better.

The doorbell chimed loudly and Jim nearly shot up from his chair in surprise, jerked abruptly out of his thoughts. He froze for a second, contemplating whether to shout out the override code and pretend he'd been busy with his paperwork or to just get up and answer the door for himself. The latter won and Jim heaved himself to his feet, taking a final bite out of his apple as he walked over to the door and keyed in the access code.

"Something I can do for you, Mr Spock?" Jim asked casually as the door opened and he caught a glimpse of black hair and green-tinted skin, but turned his back to launch the apple core into the bin at the opposite side of the room before his visitor came into full view.

"No, but perhaps there's something you can do for me, Captain Kirk." Replied a voice that definitely didn't belong to his First Officer. Jim whirled back around on his heel to find himself staring straight into bottomless azure eyes that glittered with the smallest amount of amusement, such emotional eyes looking so out of place in such an emotionless face.

"Oh! It's you, I'm sorry, I thought you were…"

"Commander Spock."

"Yeah." Jim smiled sheepishly, running a hand back through his dark blond locks in a way that had captured the hearts and minds of many women of varies species throughout his twenty five years of living.

The Vulcan girl tilted her head to the side slightly with one eyebrow raised, looking very much like Spock as she did so. Ok, so _most_ Vulcans looked the same with their greenish skin, upswept eyebrows, tapered ears and stoic expressions, but right then she would've been a dead ringer for the female version of his First Officer.

"An easy mistake to make, Captain. May I enter?" She inquired calmly, so much more in control of herself than she had been back in the medbay. She didn't seem as cold either, considering how before her eyes had been like shards of ice in her skull, and the shimmering cerulean pools staring at him right now were the exact opposite.

"Sure, c'mon in." Jim said with an easy smile, moving back out of the way so the Vulcan could step into his quarters, the doors shutting soundlessly as soon as she'd crossed the threshold.

_'Jim, what are you doing, you idiot? What did I tell you?! That girl's unstable, and she's already tried to kill you once! Good God man, have you got a death wish or something?!'_ A voice at the back of his mind screamed at him (sounding suspiciously like Bones, with the Georgian accent and everything), but Jim ignored it just as easily as he ignored everything else he didn't think was important. She'd said she'd never kill him, but if for some reason she decided to go completely nuts and rip his head from his shoulders… Well, he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

"So, what can I do for you, Miss…?" Jim started brightly, fully intending to call her 'T'Amona' like the kid had, but then trailed off when he remembered what she'd said to him about him 'not being permitted to learn her name'. Her soft-looking full lips twitched slightly, and Jim was damn sure that he'd just witnessed the Vulcan equivalent of a wry smile.

"My name is T'Amona." She told him, shaking her long ebony mane of hair back over her shoulders nonchalantly in a fluidly graceful move that gave Jim a glimpse of her delicate pointed ears.

"T'Amona…" Jim repeated as he flashed her his best shit-eating grin, liking the way her name sounded on his tongue. He hadn't intended it to come out more like a purr, but that's exactly how it left his lips. Jim Kirk had used that tone of voice on God knows how many ladies in the past, and it always made a pleasurable shiver trail down their spines in response, and usually ensured that they'd find themselves in his bed by the end of the night. He'd never bedded a Vulcan before (due to obvious reasons, such as Vulcans being practically the least sexualised alien race in the whole damn universe), but there's a first time for everything, right?

T'Amona's eyes widened the tiniest amount but just as swiftly returned to normal size. There was no spine-shivering from the coolly collected Vulcan girl, but then again, Jim would've been extremely surprised if there had been. If Spock was anything to go by, then the rest of the Vulcan race were just as unflappable, maybe even more so since they weren't half human like he was… although Jim wasn't completely sure about T'Amona. So much raw emotion back in the sickbay… surely she wasn't a pureblood Vulcan? She had to be a hybrid like Spock, or some kind of genetic experiment or something…

"What happened to the whole 'my name is unimportant' stuff you said earlier?" Jim asked jokingly, his grin growing by a couple of molars.

This time her lips quirked into what was unmistakably a small smile, the action relaxing her elfin facial features so she looked more human than Vulcan at that moment. Her eyes glittered with obvious amusement… and something else. Some kind of emotion that Jim couldn't name as it was directed towards him. It felt strange… but not unpleasant. He kinda liked it, even if he didn't know what it was. Yet.

"I've changed my mind, Captain. I had long enough to think about it, after all." She concurred, inclining her head to him. Jim kept on grinning as he nodded in understanding, stealing a quick glance at the clock on the wall behind her, just a few inches above the crown of her beautiful head.

"I'll say. You've had about… five hours to think about it."

"Five hours?" She repeated, sounding a little shocked even though her expression didn't change. Her eyes changed, though. They were such a dead giveaway, Jim noticed. So expressive… almost too expressive, in a way. "It's been so long?"

"Yeah. That must've been some pretty hardcore meditating, huh?"

"Indeed." She answered absently, obviously far away in her own thoughts as she turned her head to check the time on the clock for herself. Jim had to fight back a smirk at her reply as she once again bore an incredible likeness to Commander Spock, considering how the word 'Indeed' was one of his favourite responses.

"So," Jim spoke after a few moments of fairly comfortable silence, "What was it you wanted?"

T'Amona looked back at him with a sombre expression on her face, sending her relaxed features straight back into all their Vulcan glory of stoicism before she turned away again. Jim watched curiously as she caught sight of something on his overflowing desk and took a few hesitant steps towards it, reaching out with one bandaged hand and picking up a small golden-framed photograph that had been almost entirely hidden behind the stack of reports. Jim jerked involuntarily when he realised what she was holding, suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to rush over and rip the picture away from her. It wasn't really an unusual reaction, to be honest. He always got like that whenever people touched his personal things. And that photo was without a doubt the most personal to him.

The Vulcan girl ran her fingers lightly over the glass, tracing over the faces smiling up at her. Ignoring that little Bones voice in the back of his head again, Jim walked over to the desk and stood beside her, peering down over her shoulder.

"That's my family." He told her, pointing them out in turn. "My dad, George Kirk, my mom, Winona, and my older brother Sam." Jim grinned and pressed his finger against Winona Kirk's swollen stomach. "And that's me in there."

The trio of his blue-eyed, blonde-haired family were beaming happily, the sun highlighting their golden heads from above. Just behind them was the Kirk family home, their farmhouse in Iowa, and there was even a cherry red corvette parked in the driveway, the very same one that Jim had driven off a cliff when he was fourteen, and had almost gone over the edge with it. Jim gazed down at the photograph sadly as the memories of his childhood pounded on the edge of his subconscious, demanding to be set free.

"You've inherited your father's looks." T'Amona murmured softly, drawing Jim's attention back to her. She was staring at him intently, her sapphire blue eyes gentle and kind.

"Yeah, I know. That's why people have always expected me to be just like him. And why my mom can't bear to look at me any more, because I remind her too much of him." Jim replied, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice as he took the photograph from her hands and placing it non-too-gently back on the desk, face down. T'Amona's tapered brows furrowed into a small frown as she studied his face questioningly.

"I don't understand, Captain. Why does your similarity to your father upset your mother so much?" She asked. Jim looked at her sharply, wondering if she was acting purposely ignorant to provoke him or something, but he quickly realised that she was genuinely clueless. How, he had no idea, since George Kirk's sacrifice was pretty much common knowledge even now, so many years after.

"My dad died twenty-five years ago, saving hundreds of lives, including both mine and my mother's, on the USS _Kelvin_ when they were attacked by Nero. My whole life she's looked at me and seen him instead of me, and it only got worse as I got older, because I could see just how much my… similarity to him hurt her."

And it still did hurt her. Most of Jim's childhood, Winona Kirk had spent the majority of her time offworld, leaving her two sons behind with whichever stepfather they had at the time. Sam was the smarter one, because he ran away at the age of eighteen at the first chance he got, leaving little eleven year old Jimmy behind to fend for himself against Frank. Oh, Frank was by far the worst stepfather out of the many their mother had married. Whenever Winona was around, he liked to beat the living shit out of her, and whenever she wasn't around… Well, he found himself a new punch bag in the form of James Tiberius Kirk. If his mother had stayed with her boys and loved them both equally and unconditionally no matter which dead guy they looked like, if she hadn't fallen for every scumbag that slithered into her life, if she'd stopped for a goddamn second and thought about what kind of man she was leaving her kids behind with… Maybe things would be a Hell of a lot different. But it's too late for that now. Jim hadn't spoken to his mother or brother for years now, and that wasn't about to change.

They didn't even know he was a Captain now. Hell, they didn't even know he was in Starfleet! He might as well be dead for all they care. They were dead to him.

T'Amona's had eyes widened to almost double their normal size and she took a step back, her hands twitching by her sides like she was trying to stop herself from grabbing something. Right then, Jim was taken aback at how truly shocked the young Vulcan looked, and how pained her gaze seemed to be before she swiftly averted her eyes to the side, carefully avoiding looking at him or the picture.

"I… Forgive me, Captain Kirk. I didn't mean to pry. I didn't know…" She trailed off at the end, a troubled expression flickering across her face for literally a second before it was gone again, and T'Amona had composed herself enough to lift her head back level to meet his. "I'm sorry."

"There's no need to apologise. Really." Jim smiled, shrugging casually to show that it was no big deal. T'Amona glanced over him in that strange unreadable way again, her fingers absently smoothing the front of her tattered robes. Jim found his eyes almost instinctively drawn towards the stark white bandages around her slender hands and the similar gauze wrapped around her left thigh, visible through one of the many rips in the dark fabric of her skirt, and the blond Captain found himself wondering yet again what this girl had been through to end up with injuries like those. The phaser burn for a start was suspicious enough. Not many people on earth had phasers; mostly only Starfleet personnel carried them. So how'd she been shot by one?

"Actually, Captain, I came here with the intention of apologising to you."

"What for?"

"For my actions in the medical bay. I didn't mean to hurt you, it wasn't my intention to lash out irrationally, but I couldn't control myself and I overreacted. I'm truly sorry, Captain Kirk." She murmured, glancing up at Jim shyly from beneath her long eyelashes, her eyes almost completely hidden in the shadow of her sleek black fringe.

"Please, call me Jim. And it's fine, seriously. Water under the bridge and all that." He beamed radiantly at her, and was glad when her own lips twitched in response. "Besides, it's not like it was the first time I've ever been strangled by a pissed off Vulcan!"

And he knew for a fact that it wouldn't be the last time either, judging by how he seemed to have a natural talent for bringing out the pure batshit crazy side of the most emotionless alien race in existence. It was only a matter of time before another green-skinned, dark-haired, pointy-eared person tried to squeeze the life out of him with their superior strength. The only question now would be _which_ Vulcan attempted to murder him first: Spock or T'Amona. If he had to put money on it, he'd definitely choose Spock, just because his First Officer would get more sadistic pleasure out of finally silencing his arrogant, illogical Captain at long last.

T'Amona frowned again, the troubled look returning just as briefly as before. This time though, there was something deeper in those twin pools of cerulean that made Jim feel like he'd missed something extremely important that she was doing a brilliant job of hiding. But clearly not brilliantly enough.

"I… see." She spoke after a split-second's hesitation that Jim wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't spent so much time around his Vulcan First Officer. (Granted, it'd only been like, what, a couple of weeks? But yeah, Jim was getting pretty good at reading Spock, if he did say so himself. He was a quick learner, after all.) He decided to ignore it though, for now.

"D'you want a tour of the ship?" Jim asked, changing the subject as subtly as he could. T'Amona glanced up at him, inclining her head in curiosity. "I mean, I'm off-duty now and I'm not needed until the second half of Beta shift, so I've got a couple of hours to spare. Want me to show you around? After all, you're going to be spending the next week or so on board, you might as well learn your way around the _Enterprise_."

"Thank you for offering, Jim, but Damien and I've been through so much today and we need to rest and recover. Another time, maybe?" She smiled at him, flashing Jim the tiniest amount of pearly white teeth. Jim found himself grinning widely back at her, noticing how she'd actually called him by his first name like he'd asked. He'd been trying to get Spock to do that ever since his First Officer had called him Jim back when they'd been on the Narada.

_"Jim, the statistical likelihood that our plan will succeed is less than four point three percent."_

The hybrid alien might've been doing his damned hardest to pretend his little slip had never happened, but Jim wasn't about to give in that easily. He'd made it one of his personal goals to have Spock call him by his first name before this first mission was over. Hell, he'd even settle for being called James, just as long as the pointy-eared bastard called him something other than Captain for a change.

"I need to go back now." T'Amona told him, and if Jim didn't know any better he'd say she sounded disappointed that she had to cut their conversation short. "I promised Damien I wouldn't be gone long. He won't go to sleep until I return."

She smiled fondly to herself. She cared a lot about that kid, Jim noticed. It was pretty much hard to miss, to be honest, since Damien was the only living thing she'd let come within three feet of her without her going homicidal. Maybe they were bonded by trauma or something. Or maybe she felt responsible for whatever happened back at the house. Jim knew that feeling. But one thing he would've never expected was just how much affection and tenderness the young Vulcan clearly felt towards the boy. It was illogical, wasn't it? Emotional attachments. Very un-Vulcanlike.

His eyes caught sight of a long tear in her robes that ran down her left arm, her bruised shoulder glaringly visible in the gaping hole in the fabric, and something suddenly occurred to him.

"Haven't you been given a change of clothes yet?" He asked. T'Amona glanced down at herself as she picked at one shredded sleeve with her fingertips before bringing her eyes back up to meet his.

"Not that I know of. Unless someone has brought them to the room in my absence."

"Hmm… Well, I'll get that sorted out for you for when you wake up later." Jim said thoughtfully, his brow creasing slightly. "I'm sure there's some spare clothes around here somewhere. Oh, hold on a minute. Let me just…"

He crossed to room in three strides and yanked open a drawer, rummaging through it carelessly. T'Amona rose up onto her tiptoes, craning her neck to peer over the blond man's shoulder to see what he was doing. After a few moments of almost frantic searching, Jim straightened up, a pile of material clutched in his hands and a triumphant expression on his face.

"Aha! Here you go…" Jim grinned, holding his full arms out towards the Vulcan girl who was staring at him like he was the most fascinating and mystifying puzzle in the entire universe. "You can sleep in these if you want, I don't mind. There's a shirt and a pair of shorts for the kid, though they'll probably be more like trousers on him. And these are for you."

Somewhat warily, T'Amona stepped forwards and took the clothing from him, transferring the clothes intended for Damien under her arm as she unfolded what looked to be a plain black t-shirt and a pair of worn grey sweats. She cast her gaze over them with one tapered eyebrow raised, but Jim could see how her cerulean eyes had softened considerably, and her mouth had a definite up-tilt to it now.

"Thank you, Jim." She said, inclining her head graciously to him.

"No problem, T'Amona." Jim smiled back. "If there's anything else you need, I'll be more than happy to help."

"In that case, I won't hesitate to let you know." T'Amona refolded the material and held it all balanced perfectly on one hand, and raised the other hand, her fingers spread in what Jim recognised as the hand gesture of a Vulcan salute. "Until we meet again, Captain Kirk."

"See you around, T'Amona." He grinned, mirroring the gesture as best he could and was rewarded with another brief glimpse of white teeth before she turned to leave, limping a little as she exited his quarters. Jim stared after her until the door slid shut again behind her and he smiled to himself. Maybe seducing a Vulcan wasn't going to be as difficult as he first thought it was. Hypothetically speaking, of course, since Jim wasn't _intending_ to seduce a Vulcan, y'know, because he promised Bones he wouldn't. But then again, there were seven whole days before they arrived at New Vulcan…

And in that time, who knew what could happen?

* * *

T'Amona lips were still curved upwards slightly when she found herself standing in front of the door of her own temporary quarters, her delicate fingers deftly typing in the pass code on the data pad on the wall. With a small mechanical hiss, the door opened and she stepped inside the brightly lit room, the faint smell of magnolia from her candles still present in the air.

"Lower lights to thirty percent." She whispered. The lights immediately dimmed to her instructions and she glanced over at the small huddled lump in the double bed that was Damien. Her eyes softened tenderly and she shook her head with a smile as she moved closer to the sleeping Terran, curled up into a ball and snoring lightly, wrapped up snugly in the bedsheets. Obviously he'd been too tired to wait for her to come back, and had just given up and gone to bed anyway. T'Amona felt a little guilty about that, since she'd promised she wouldn't take too long, but she'd spent a great deal more time with Captain Kirk than she'd originally planned to. Ah, he was just like the James Tiberius Kirk she knew of her own time: charismatic, charming, self-assured and incorrigibly flirtatious. But there was so much more to him than first meets the eye. There was a sadness that ran so incredibly deep when he spoke about his family and his childhood. She hadn't expected that.

Another thing she hadn't expected either was that George Kirk had died on the day of Jim's birth. In T'Amona's timeline, George Kirk had proudly watched his son grow up, graduate Starfleet and become a Captain, and even watched him raise a family of his own before he passed away at a ripe old age due to natural causes, a beloved husband, father, and grandfather. But not this time. Nero robbed him of his life, and robbed his family of their happiness. That bastard Romulan had been very busy since he was sucked into that black hole that brought him back here. Killing George Kirk, destroying Vulcan… Had he done more? T'Amona didn't know yet, but she fully intended to find out before they landed on New Vulcan.

As quietly as she could (so not to disturb Damien), she started to undress, gingerly peeling the fabric from her aching body and letting the tattered robes fall in a puddle at her feet. She quickly checked her bandages, making sure that she wasn't bleeding anywhere, and then she changed into the clothes she'd borrowed from Jim, tugging the shirt over her head and pulling on the sweats. They were both too big for her petite frame, the waistband of the trousers resting dangerously low on her slim hips and the neckline of the shirt wide enough to slip down over one shoulder, but they were fine just for sleeping in.

It was a little bit too cold in the room for T'Amona's liking, since the temperature was set for human comfort and her natural body temperature was higher than that of a Terran thanks to her Vulcan heritage.

"Raise temperature by ten percent." She said, bending down to pick up her robes from the floor, but as she did so a sharp burst of pain shot down the length of her back and she hissed aloud, straightening up abruptly. The wound on her back. She'd almost forgotten about it due to the fact that it hadn't been hurting that much until then. The heat of the room had risen on demand and she felt instantly more comfortable, despite the lingering throbbing burn down her spine.

"Wha'cha doin'?" Came a voice from behind her, rough with sleep. T'Amona turned back around to see the Terran kid sat upright in bed, rubbing his eyes tiredly with both hands, his blond hair sticking up even more uncontrollably than it had earlier.

"Nothing. Go back to sleep." T'Amona replied softly, moving closer to the bed again so she could tuck him in. Her mother and father always used to tuck her in at night when she was a little girl, and it always made her feel safe and loved. She hoped she could convey the same to Damien in the same way.

"Took you long enough t' get back, didn' it?" Damien mumbled thickly, glaring blearily at her through heavy-lidded eyes. T'Amona brushed a lock of her raven hair back behind one pointed ear as she leaned over him, pushing him gently back down into the mattress with one hand and pulling the sheets up to his chin with the other.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realise how long I'd spent talking with the Captain. He offered to show us around the ship sometime."

"Cool, we c'n do that t'morrow."

T'Amona made to step closer, but her foot caught on something and she nearly tripped, just managing to catch herself before she thoroughly squashed the young Terran beneath her. Glancing down, she noticed a pair of dusty trainers and a pile of ruined clothing on the carpet, just as burnt and bloodied as her own robes. Raising her eyebrows, she looked sharply back at Damien, who was trying as hard as he could to keep his eyelids from drooping as he stared at her.

"Please tell me that you aren't naked in that bed right now, Terran." She said coolly, her eyes icy as she looked down at him. Damien blinked a few times, and then his nose wrinkled in distaste.

"Ew, no. I've got my boxers on. And I had a shower too, just in case you're wondering."

"Here, put these on." T'Amona walked briskly across the room to grab the spare clothes she'd brought back with her from the Captain's quarters and strode back, holding the neatly folded material out towards him. The boy scowled, yawning so widely that T'Amona could almost see his tonsils.

"Where'd you get those?"

"Captain Kirk has let us borrow them."

"You got some too?"

"Yes, I'm wearing them now."

"Well, I'm not getting out of bed just for some clothes, I'm fine as I am now. And I'm nice and comfy now too, so I'll put them on in the morning."

"You don't need to get out of bed to put them on." T'Amona told him, dropping the offered clothing on his head when he didn't make a move to take it from her. "Just get dressed under the covers."

Grumbling to himself, Damien pulled the material off his head and ducked under the sheets, wriggled around for a couple of minutes, then resurfaced with a satisfied grunt, settling his head back down onto the large white pillow. T'Amona smirked at him openly and turned away from him, walking over to the stiff-backed armchair in the opposite corner of the room. Her bed for the night. Damien needed more space and comfort than she did, so he got the double bed and she got the chair. It was a logical solution. Not really an appealing one to T'Amona, but she didn't really mind so much when it was for a good cause. She'd already left a spare pillow and folded-up bedsheet on the seat for herself earlier, having planned ahead, so she set them up for her comfort and settled into the chair. Light brown eyes watched her curiously.

"T'Amona, what're you doing over there?" Damien asked. T'Amona met his gaze steadily.

"I'm trying to sleep." She replied with the tiniest hint of sarcasm in her otherwise even voice. Damien heaved an irritated sigh and rolled his eyes, reaching over himself to throw back the covers on the spare side of the bed.

"Get over here, you Vulcan idiot." He grumbled, shaking his head as he glared at her stubbornly. T'Amona frowned uncertainly for a moment or two and Damien sighed again, patting the empty space beside him in a way that was undeniably obvious. He wasn't going to back down about this, she realised. That kid was every bit as stubborn as she was.

"_Fine_." T'Amona growled under her breath, kicking off her covers and padding back over to the bed, sliding in beside the Terran boy with a longing to wipe that annoying victorious smirk off his freckled face.

"There, that's much better, isn't it?" He smiled sweetly at her. T'Amona muttered a Vulcan swearword and pulled the sheets harshly up to cover them both, ignoring him as he snorted with laughter that shook the whole bed.

"Just shut up and go to sleep before I nerve pinch you, Terran."


	5. Chapter 5

**Heya everyone! God, I really need to start updating my stories quicker. Here's chapter 5 people!**

**Just a reminder: I dont own anything to do with Star Trek, I'm just borrowing the characters and everything and throwing a few OCs in there at the same time. ^^**

**Read on and review for me please, thanks!**

**Enjoy :D**

* * *

**Star date: 2258**

**Location: USS _Enterprise_**

_"Andromeda, Antilia, Apus, Aquarius, Aquila, Ara, Aries…"_

_The stars sparkled brightly in the night sky, beautiful burning dots of light against a blanket of pure ebony. T'Amona found herself smiling sadly as she gazed heavenwards, absently naming constellations in alphabetical order from atop the hillside where she lay flat on her back in the lush grass._

_"… Capricornus, Carina, Cassiopeia, Centaurus, Cepheus, Cetus…"_

_The Terran woman had been right; this place was rather peaceful. So quiet and serene, the sounds of the city below completely drowned out by the sheer silence that surrounded her, making her voice sound strangely eerie and echoing to her own ears. That didn't even make sense, but it didn't matter, because the surreally silent atmosphere was just perfect for clearing her head of everything that had happened to her lately: Ambassador Spock going missing, Nero, the destruction of Vulcan…Obviously the thoughts were still swimming around in her mind, determined not to be forgotten, but they weren't as dominant now. T'Amona felt relaxed and at ease for the first time in weeks._

_"… Draco, Equuleus, Eridanus, Fornax, Gemini…"_

_She needed to find Ambassador Spock. She knew he hadn't perished on Vulcan, basing her judgement on a simple feeling deep in her heart that assured her that he was very much alive and out there somewhere. In the morning, she would leave the Terran family and find a way to get off this planet and search the entire galaxy if she had to. The elderly half-Vulcan could be the only thing she had left in this new unfamiliar existence, and she'd sooner die rather than lose him completely._

_"… Libra, Lupus, Lynx, Lyra, Mensa…"_

_T'Amona shifted a little in the grass and winced as sharp bolts of pain ran through her limbs from even the slightest movement. She was injured badly, true, but she was swiftly beginning to realise that maybe she was more wounded than she'd first thought. Her previously dislocated shoulder felt impossibly heavy, like lead, and her whole arm was slightly numb. Whenever she touched the skin of that arm, tiny pinpricks of heat erupted from the contact that she was certain had nothing to do with her Vulcan touch-telepathy. T'Amona had never hurt like this before. Back on Vulcan, she'd prided herself on being as strong as she could possibly be, driven by her determination to gain the respect of her people. She'd always had a desire to prove herself, even from a very young age, when she first realised just how different from other Vulcans she truly was. But she wasn't strong now. She was the exact opposite of the word._

_"… Orion, Pavo, Pegasus, Perseus, Phoenix, Pictor, Pisces…"_

_The departing words of the three elders back on Vulcan still made an intense burning rush of illogical anger and sadness spread through her entire body whenever she remembered their spiteful comments, but she refused to let it consume her. If T'Amona lost herself to her emotions now, she didn't think she'd be able to drag herself back from it all. The diluted blood that ran through her veins was responsible for that. Or, to be more specific, her mother was responsible for that. Even though T'Amona had the outer appearance of a regular Vulcan, which she inherited from her father, she was without a doubt her mother's daughter on the inside. Maybe that's why she was so discriminated against back home. The other Vulcans were so adept at seeing straight through her, looking past the stoic mask to stare into the unnatural depths beneath. And obviously they didn't like what they saw._

_"… Sagitta, Sagittarius, Scorpius…"_

_In their eyes she was unnatural, a trouble-causer disrupting the peace to satisfy her emotional need to rebel, a dark stain on the otherwise stark white Vulcan existence. They didn't say too much to her face, just because of her parents being exactly who they were, but they never attempted to talk discreetly amongst themselves whenever they discussed T'Amona and her… abnormality. It always affected her deeply when she overheard conversations like that, but she forced the emotion as far down inside her as it would go, hiding it beautifully behind her expressionless Vulcan features. In a way, she had more self-control than they could ever imagine, despite her tainted heritage._

_"… Vela, Virgo, Volans, Vulpecula." T'Amona finished softly, blinking freely up at the starlit sky as the last echoes of her voice dissipated into the darkness._

_Suddenly, a piercing scream split through the air, jerking T'Amona abruptly back from her thoughts with a grimace at the pain the noise caused her sensitive pointed ears. She was on her feet in a heartbeat, her eyes narrowed, scanning her surroundings as thoroughly as she could through the thick gloom. Her gaze was almost instantly drawn to the house that she'd left not too long ago, inhabited by the boy Damien and his parents Kyle and Sophie._

_T'Amona shivered, icy claws of fear gripping her spine. That scream had been unmistakably Terran. And female._

_Sophie!_

Something soft brushed against T'Amona's face and she twitched a little, then swiftly relaxed when cool fingers came to rest in the roughly accurate position against her meld-points. A slow smile spread across her lips, the feeling reminding her of all the melds she'd ever performed and partaken in before with her mother, her father, her grandparents and her intended bondmate.

"My mind to your mind…" She mumbled sleepily to herself. "My thoughts to your thoughts…"

_She sprinted as fast as her weak legs would carry her back towards the house, a horrible ache twisting in the pit of her stomach that only increased the closer she got. She had a very bad feeling about this. Every logical thought in her mind was screaming at her to keep her distance, to run in the opposite direction, to ignore the lure of human curiosity and avoid putting herself in possible harm's way. But she couldn't. She wouldn't. T'Amona would never forgive herself if she walked away and left them now, and she knew it'd only haunt her and overwhelm her if she turned a blind eye._

_In less than a minute, T'Amona was already at the bottom of the hill that had taken almost ten minutes to climb, her calves and thighs searing with the intensity of being pushed almost to snapping point as she forced herself onwards through sheer willpower. The house quickly loomed into view, and the back door appeared just as swiftly. Without stopping to think about what possible danger could be lurking inside, T'Amona barrelled through the doorway._

_And the scene that greeted her was one she would've never imagined in a million years._

_The human named Kyle was dead. He was sprawled over one of the sofas as though he'd been lifted up and thrown carelessly aside, one of his legs bent at an impossible angle and a deep scarlet stain surrounding a blackened hole in the centre of his chest. His previously severe expression was now frozen in a state of complete shock, his hazel eyes wide and glazed and his mouth gaping open in disbelief, like he'd been caught off guard by just how quick and unexpected his death had been. Even his ponytail had come loose and now his grey-flecked hair was tangled all over his face, sticking to the single line of red liquid that oozed steadily from the corner of his mouth._

_With great difficulty, T'Amona tore her eyes away from the lifeless body and her gaze darted almost immediately to the fireplace when she caught sight of something in her peripheral vision._

_Sophie was dangling helplessly a good few feet from the ground, her legs kicking as she desperately tried to pull away the hands that were gripping onto her throat – hands that belonged to a tall, muscular man who looked fully capable of snapping the Terran woman like a twig if he wanted to. The intruder was dressed all in black and there was a phaser hanging from his belt, the weapon he'd obviously used to murder Kyle. But that wasn't the reason why T'Amona's heart skipped a beat and her entire body jerked to an abrupt halt where she stood in the doorway, her feet refusing to move neither into the house nor away from it._

_This stranger had greenish skin, pointed ears and tapered eyebrows, as well as a bald head that was almost completely covered with tattoos. In the flickering orange light of the fire, T'Amona could clearly see the vindictive smirk on his face, and a very recent jagged scar that ran down the centre of his mouth from where his lips had been torn open a couple of weeks ago in a vicious brawl. This man wasn't a man at all. He was a Romulan._

_And worst of all, she knew exactly who he was and why he was here._

_"I'm going to ask you this one more time, Terran." He growled in a guttural voice to Sophie, sneering at her as she gasped for breath, clawing at the hands around her neck that were slowly but surely clamping her airway shut. "And you're going to tell me exactly what I need to know, unless you want to end up like your husband over there, do you understand? Now… where is the Vulcan?"_

_The Romulan loosened his grip so Sophie could speak. As soon as the pressure on her oesophagus was eased a little, she coughed harshly and gulped down as much oxygen as her lungs could take before replying._

_"I don't… know what you're… talking about… there's no…Vulcan here…" Sophie panted. Why was she lying? Why was she trying to protect T'Amona? Surely the Terran woman should be doing whatever she could to protect her own family rather than a wounded alien stray that had happened to pass out on their doorstep. Yet here she was, being strangled by a Romulan with her dead husband staring at her from where he lay on the couch and her young son nowhere to be seen, and she still insisted on lying through her teeth to keep the Vulcan girl safe from harm. Sophie was, without a doubt, an extremely brave human, even in the face of certain death._

_With an angry snarl, the Romulan's hands slammed straight back around her throat even tighter than before. Sophie gagged, her chocolate brown eyes bulging as her lips started to turn blue._

_"Don't lie to me, you filthy human! Tell me where that little Vulcan freak is or I'll separate your head from the rest of your body!"_

_"I'm here." T'Amona spoke, her soft voice carrying easily across the room as she walked out of the shadows, taking the final steps into the house. The Romulan's head instantly snapped up, pinning her directly in his sights with his narrowed eyes that were so dark they were practically black. His scarred lips spread into a wide malicious grin, baring his sharp white teeth at her wolfishly._

_"There you are!" He chuckled victoriously. T'Amona eyed him coldly, a powerful anger starting to work its way up her throat like bile, but she refused to let anything show on her face that wasn't typical Vulcan neutrality._

_"Let her go, San'nuk." T'Amona demanded, her bandaged hands curling into fists so tight that her knuckles turned pearly white from the lack of circulation. The Romulan, San'nuk, threw his head back and laughed delightedly before he mockingly bowed low to her, sneering at the younger alien from beneath dark upswept eyebrows in a way that almost made her heart jump up to her throat in fear, and she had to furiously fight the illogical emotion back before he could see it with his own eyes._

_"As you command, my dear inbred Vulcan." San'nuk jeered. He released his chokehold on Sophie and let her drop gracelessly to the floor, clutching at own throat as she heaved shallow breaths down her damaged windpipe. Her gaze swiftly met T'Amona's and she surged to her feet with a sudden burst of desperate adrenaline._

_"Run, T'Amona!" Sophie yelled out in warning as she started sprinting towards her, her blonde curls swinging wildly around her head and shoulders, the expression on her pretty face one of pure panic and fear. T'Amona instinctively stretched out a hand towards the older Terran woman, tensing herself to run with her when she got close enough._

_Only she never got close enough._

_There was a short burst of light and Sophie's features turned from panic to absolute shock that mirrored the exact same expression that was frozen on her dead husband's face. It felt like time itself had shuddered to a halt as the fair-haired woman took an age to fall, landing facedown with a dull thud onto the carpet. She was completely still now, not even twitching as crimson fluid streamed down from between her shoulder blades, soaking through her pale blouse and staining the ends of her blonde curls red._

_T'Amona stared down at the unmoving figure numbly, the woman's fingertips literally five inches from T'Amona's feet. Her brain just outright refused to compute what she'd just seen even as her eyes had clearly witnessed that Sophie had been murdered right in front of her, and had been dead before she'd hit the floor._

_"I warned her not to lie to me." San'nuk smiled sweetly, his dark eyes twinkling sadistically in his skull. Adrenaline was beginning to pulse its way around T'Amona's body with every beat of her heart, her clenched fists trembling by her side as she lifted her head to stare into those evil eyes. San'nuk grinned at her cruelly, the phaser that was now in his hand aimed straight at her forehead._

_"Riyeht-stau! Eshu'a!" T'Amona hissed in pure fury, her rage so intense that her ability to speak Standard abandoned her completely and her native tongue took control for a moment as she cursed him in Vulcan. "Why did you have to kill them? Their deaths served no purpose!"_

_"I've got my orders, yonuk-Vuhlkansu. Captain Nero said to bring you back to the Narada in whatever way necessary, and to remove any objects blocking my path. Those filthy Terrans insisted on protecting you, so naturally I disposed of the obstruction."_

_T'Amona couldn't repress the flinch that sparked through her entire body at his words, especially the Vulcan insult that had sound so much more vicious and cruel coming from the mouth of a Romulan. During the past seven days she'd unwillingly spent onboard the Narada, San'nuk had called her 'yonuk-Vuhlkansu' almost too many times to count, and even though that's exactly what she was, it didn't stop her from reacting to it just as visibly now as she had back there._

_San'nuk cackled nastily at her reaction, but he pretended he hadn't noticed it and continued on as though the foreign dialect had never left his lips. He raised his free hand to scratch absently at the side of his nose, and then trailed over the healing scar that marred his mouth, his expression turning cold and vengeful._

_"Besides, I wanted to settle the score. You mutilated my face back on the ship, so in return I've killed your little Terran friends here. That's fair, isn't it? Oh, and speaking of 'little' friends… the woman sent that kid running upstairs before I could grab hold of him. How about I go and get him so you can watch me send him to meet his parents, hm?"_

_That was the final straw for T'Amona. She would **not** let this bastard take Damien's life in the same callous way he had murdered the boy's mother and father. A familiar red haze had descended over her vision and her limbs felt white-hot, every logical thought completely purged from her mind to be replaced with irrational uncontrollable rage and an overpowering desire for retribution for what he'd done to the family that had defended her to their final breaths._

_Without hesitation, T'Amona rushed towards him, murder in her cobalt eyes._

_San'nuk barely had time to swallow his complete disbelief before she was on him with the full force of her entire body, intent on ripping his head from his shoulders with her bare hands. She wasn't Vulcan any more at that moment. Now she was Terran in every single way but appearance, and she'd never felt more alive than she did right then._

_Her fist met solidly with his jaw, making him stagger backwards at the unexpected strength of her blow, the satisfying cracking sound of bone breaking echoing around the room. San'nuk swore in guttural Romulan, spitting out teeth and green blood as he tried to shield his face from further damage with one arm and positioned his phaser directly at her stomach with the other, squeezing the trigger once._

_It was incredibly lucky that her reflexes were much faster than that of a human or she would've been dragged back to the Narada with a gaping hole through her stomach. T'Amona's bandaged hand whipped out and knocked the phaser out of his grip just as he fired it, shattering several bones in his hand and diverting the laser burst downwards. Perhaps she was also unlucky in that sense too, because if her reflexes had been as superior as a pureblood Vulcan's, she would've reacted quicker and avoided the searing pain that instantly tore across her left thigh._

_She cried out in agony and faltered, her left leg buckling beneath her. San'nuk took immediate advantage of her moment of weakness and delivered a powerful crushing blow to the side of her throat that sent her sprawling onto the floor. There was a sharp prick of pain amongst the dull ache from his punch; one of his fingernails must've pierced the skin when his fist made contact with her neck._

_With a vicious snarl, San'nuk bent down and seized a handful of her long black hair, pulling her to her knees before him, not realising that he'd just made the most fatal mistake of his life until the moment T'Amona swung her uninjured leg around, colliding with the backs of his knees and sending him crashing down beside her. His arms flailed as he fell, one landing in the fireplace and knocking a burning log off the hearth, sending it rolling across the carpet away from them, setting alight everything it touched on its way, but the two struggling aliens were far too preoccupied to notice._

_T'Amona drove her elbow hard into the Romulan's solar plexus and San'nuk dug his fingers deep into the fresh wound on her thigh, both of them growling in pain and thrashing wildly on the carpet, a flurry of limbs and deadly accurate blows. T'Amona was literally fighting tooth and nail, trying to claw his eyes out and biting down hard enough to draw dark green liquid from the arm that had attempted to snake around her neck. San'nuk roared in pain as T'Amona's sharp teeth sank through flesh and into muscle, shaking his arm wildly to dislodge the Vulcan. And that was all the opportunity T'Amona needed._

_With swift precision, T'Amona grabbed his arm and twisted it backwards until there was a series of horrific snapping sounds and San'nuk screamed in agony, but the young Vulcan girl showed absolutely no mercy or remorse, her azure eyes like shards of ice as she yanked the Romulan onto his front by his now useless arm and straddled his hips, trapping him between her thighs._

_She wrapped both her arms around San'nuk's head, gripping onto her damaged fingers as the Romulan struggled pitifully in her grip._

_"Tev-tor, San'nuk…" She whispered in his pointed ear, barely allowing time for the meaning of the word to sink into his brain as she tightened her hold, putting an immense amount of tension on his neck until there was another sharp snap and the Romulan fell completely limp in her grasp, his head dangling unnaturally on his neck. T'Amona had just performed Tal'shaya, an ancient Vulcan execution technique of breaking an enemy's neck as quickly and painlessly as possible. As enraged as she was and how much she'd wanted to make San'nuk suffer for his actions, she wasn't a sadistic monster who took pleasure in other people's agony. At least the Romulan was dead now, and that was all that mattered._

_T'Amona was panting harshly, perspiration beading her forehead as she released the dead Romulan and slid off his back, groaning in pain and clutching at her left leg that was slippery with her own emerald blood. Her head was buzzing frantically, her hands shaking as she tried to stem the flow of liquid from the phaser wound. She'd never taken a life before, and T'Amona was shocked at just how easy it'd been for her to make the decision to kill… Her eyes had been observing everything, her brain calculating the exact angle she had to pull his arm back to shatter both the radius and the ulna bones in several places, the exact amount of pressure she had to exert to internally break his skull clean off his spine without even puncturing the skin. It'd been simple, efficient and justified… but so unbelievably **wrong**._

_The smell of burning brought her quickly back to her senses._

_T'Amona sat bolt upright, her injuries momentarily forgotten as she stared around the room that was almost completely ablaze, thick plumes of bright orange fire surrounding her on all sides, climbing higher and higher towards the ceiling. Heavy black smoke was already filling the air, falling to cover everything beneath it. The flames were already licking at the three corpses, setting the hair and flesh alight from the sheer intense heat._

_T'Amona was sweating, the temperature nothing like she'd ever experienced before. How had the flames spread so quickly in such a short space of time? Surely it was only a matter of minutes before the fire reached the wooden beams that supported the ceiling and brought the entire upper floor crashing down on top of her._

_And then she suddenly remembered that she wasn't the only person still alive inside this house._

_"Kid!!" T'Amona yelled hoarsely, coughing harshly as the black smoke rushed down her throat as she lurched to her feet, running straight for the staircase that led to the upper floor, ignoring the pure agony of her injured leg. Her pain didn't matter the slightest now, not when there were more important things to concentrate on._

_She had a young Terran to save._

T'Amona flew bolt upright in bed with a sharp gasp, her chest heaving rapidly and a single droplet of cold sweat trickling its way down her cheek from her right temple. For a few seconds of blind panic, she actually thought that she was back in the burning house, about to be killed either by the flames or the roof caving in on her, but she soon regained her senses and relaxed a little against the headboard, breathing a deep sigh of relief as she focused on returning her thundering heartbeat to its normal speed.

Damien stirred slightly beside her and T'Amona reached down to stroke his soft blond head soothingly so he wouldn't wake up. Her nightmare was far more than just an average bad dream and she knew instinctively that it wouldn't be the last time she'd be plagued in her sleep by her recent memories. T'Amona had always had problems sleeping in the past, back when she was a young girl on Vulcan, misunderstood and shunned, kept wide awake with her head so full of questions. Why did none of the other children like her? Why did everyone treat her like she didn't belong? Why was she so different? Some of her childhood memories back then hadn't really helped her lethargy either. Her classmates insulted her, taunted her, called her names. Freak. Hybrid. Abomination. The worthless unnatural spawn of a crossbreed and a whore, tainting their perfect society with her impure blood. And those weren't the worst she'd been subjected to either, since there were always fresh amounts of verbal abuse every single day, all aimed in her direction and jabbing straight into her heart like a thousand heated blades. She'd pretended it hadn't hurt, but every word cut her straight to the core, haunting her in her bed at night as she cried into her pillow.

Never once had she shouted for her parents though. She never wanted them to see how weak she was, because she didn't want them to be disappointed in her. Maybe that's where her desire to prove herself had manifested from.

Giving Damien's head one last gentle pat, T'Amona threw the covers off herself and swung her legs over the side of the bed, feeling nauseous all of a sudden, her stomach clenching and her head pounding. With a small groan, she pulled herself to her feet and padded quietly to the bathroom, careful to make as little noise as possible.

"Lights." She mumbled as her bare feet stepped off soft carpet and found icy cold tiles. She shivered a little at the change in temperature as the door slid shut behind her. "Fifty percent."

The small bathroom was instantly illuminated with artificial light and T'Amona moved closer to the mirror hung above the sink, observing her reflection with an expression of complete indifference. Her green-tinted skin seemed a shade paler than usual and there were the beginnings of dark rings beneath her eyes, but these were practically unnoticeable to the untrained eye, or rather, the human eye, and since the majority of the crew of the _Enterprise_ were human, that was fine by her. Her ebony locks were far from their usual neatness, sticking up in knotted clumps from where she'd obviously been tossing and turning in bed, and her eyebrows furrowed into a frown at the state of it. She always despised how she looked on a morning, so unkempt and drowsy, appearing more like her non-Vulcan mother instead of her Vulcan father. But honestly, she only despised this because every other Vulcan did. It made her even more unnatural to them, if that was even possible.

T'Amona sighed at the image of herself staring tiredly back at her, her gaze drawn away from her face and down her neck, the deep purple bruises clearly visible thanks to the oversized shirt hanging halfway down her shoulders, baring her collarbones and marked throat to the world. Big handprints from big hands… Big hands that had been so strong that they could've easily crushed her throat if their owner had wanted to. T'Amona wondered if the marks would ever actually fade, permanently etched into her skin for the rest of her life. Knowing her luck, it was most likely.

Another bruise that was so painfully noticeable was the large patch of blackened skin on her left shoulder from its previous dislocation. T'Amona pressed two fingers against the joint, gritting her teeth together against the sharp ache from the pressure before removing the digits again, staring as the two stark white marks left behind were quickly submerged again. She hated bruises. They always showed up so vividly on her skin, like blood on snow, the darkness contrasting intensely against the paleness of her flesh. She'd had her fair share of bruises over the years, but admittedly, for every one she'd received, she never failed to deliver a fair few back of her own. A few black marks on her body were a small price to pay for the pure feeling of triumph after besting someone twice her height and weight. She'd always managed to hide the contusions from her parents. For the last eight years of her life, her mother and father had never found out where she disappeared to in her spare time. And with good reason, because they would've both hit the roof if they'd known.

Smiling wryly to herself, T'Amona started unravelling the bandages that encircled her hands, pointedly gazing into the mirror in front of her rather than looking down at the full extent of the damage. When both hands were bare, she draped the bandages over the edge of the sink, then grasped onto the hem of her oversized shirt and proceeded to yank the material up and over her head, ignoring the pain from various parts of her body as she did so.

Once free, she let the item of clothing fall onto the tiles at her feet as she found the knot of the bandages wrapped around her torso and easily unfastened it. In less than a minute, that length of gauze was hanging beside the shorter ones on the sink.

The borrowed grey trousers swiftly joined the shirt on the floor, and the bandage around her thigh joined the others, and T'Amona stepped into the shower, fiddling briefly with the settings until water started spraying down from the showerhead above her, the freezing cold liquid so wonderfully soothing on her aching body.

T'Amona ran her unfeeling hands through her soaked ebony hair that was plastered to her face and shoulders, raking her fingernails against her scalp, sighing blissfully as she tilted her head upwards to let the water splash straight onto her face. There were so many things that she needed to learn before they arrived at New Vulcan. Did everyone who she'd known still exist in this timeline? Her friends? Her parents? Well, obviously her parents existed, but what T'Amona really needed to know was if they were actually _together_. Were they bonded yet? Yes, granted, everyone was all so young, so maybe they hadn't known each other long enough yet to discover the love they shared that would outshine even the sun itself.

Or maybe… maybe in this alternate reality, everything was different. Vulcan had already been destroyed, what else could've been changed? Surely not her mother and father's relationship with each other. T'Amona had seen how much love they shared, and better yet, she had experienced it during several mind melds she'd participated in with them. It was… indescribable, breathtakingly beautiful and just outright overwhelming that surely not even time could destroy it. But… if it could… then that would mean…

She'd never be born. If her parents didn't become lovers, bondmates, _t'hy'la_, joined in matrimony for the rest of their lives together, then…

T'Amona wouldn't come to exist in this reality.

And that was a thought that froze the diluted green blood in her veins with fear.

* * *

Tears dripped steadily down Damien's cheeks as he buried his face into the pillow, trying to muffle his sobs so T'Amona wouldn't hear him. Even though she was in the shower, and the roar of the water was obviously much louder than a few pathetic whimpers, he thought it better to be safe than sorry. Who knew just how sensitive those pointy alien ears are? Not him, that's for sure, and he wasn't taking any chances. He didn't want her to find him like this.

Contrary to what T'Amona had assumed, Damien hadn't been asleep when she'd woken up. He'd been pretending, after laying wide awake beside her for about twenty minutes, watching worriedly as she tossed and groaned in her sleep, her eyes flickering frantically behind her closed eyelids and her hands twisting the bedsheets so hard that the material had started to tear.

The young boy couldn't deny that he was still in awe at her strength, especially after what happened in the sickbay where she'd practically thrown Captain Kirk through the wall and then actually lifted him off the floor by his throat. Damien hadn't expected that at all from the delicate-looking alien girl. There was definitely more to her than first meets the eye and he'd been determined to find out as much as he could about her. But maybe he'd already found out way too much.

Whenever he had bad dreams, his mom would always sit by his side and stroke his head until he fell back to sleep, and if what he could see was anything to go by, T'Amona's dreams were a whole new level of bad. So naturally, he'd reached over to stroke at her head with the back of his hand, to soothe her in the same way his mom used to soothe him. If he'd known anything about Vulcans, he wouldn't have even considered touching a touch-telepath in their sleep, nor would he have brushed his hand accidentally over the part of her head that he was unaware were her meld-points.

And so, instinctively in her slumber, T'Amona's subconscious had reached out through the skin-to-skin contact and melded with the young Terran.

And Damien saw everything that was going through her head at that moment, staring in on the horrific scene as though he was actually there himself. He watched his father die, then his mother, and then the fight between T'Amona and the strange man, the one who looked very much like a Vulcan but was obviously something different entirely. He saw T'Amona kill the intruder, breaking his neck so easily, like she'd done it a million times before. Seeing the normally calm and collected alien girl lose her cool, both back at the house and in the sickbay earlier… It scared him, it really did. It scared him even more than when he himself had come face-to-face with the man T'Amona had called San'nuk before his mom had sent him running upstairs, out of harm's way. Until the fire had started, of course. And now he knew exactly how it'd started, and exactly how his parents had died.

In the bathroom, the shower spluttered once and then shut off completely. Damien hurriedly wiped his face clean of tears with the corner of the bedsheets, rolling over so his back was facing the door, breathing deeply and slowly, waiting for T'Amona to resurface.

Less than five minutes later, the door slid mechanically sideways and the Vulcan girl walked back into the bedroom wearing only her oversized borrowed t-shirt, the hem of which ended just a few inches above mid-thigh. She was clutching her grey sweats in one hand and several lengths of bandages in the other, her long hair plastered to her head and back, curling damply against the greenish skin of her elfin face. With an almost imperceptible sigh, she sat herself down in the armchair she'd originally intended to sleep in and muttered something to herself in a language Damien didn't understand. He recognised it though, from T'Amona's memory she'd unknowingly shared with him. Vulcan, he guessed.

Damien purposely twitched a little, groaned and stretched out widely in bed, then let his eyes gradually flicker open as he yawned loudly, catching T'Amona's attention. As the young Terran boy pulled himself upright against the headboard, she was immediately by his side, her eyes tender and warm.

"Did you sleep well, Damien?" She asked. Damien rubbed his eyes for effect, blinking tiredly a few times, keeping up the pretence.

"Yeah, not bad. You?" He replied, throwing in another yawn for good measure. T'Amona's brow creased the tiniest amount, so subtly that Damien wouldn't have noticed it if she hadn't been so close to him. Obviously she was remembering her dream and considering whether or not to tell him the truth. He didn't expect her to. Just like he wasn't going to tell her that he knew precisely how she'd slept, and it'd been anything but 'well'.

"It was adequate. Vulcans don't need as much sleep as Terrans do." She told him, her lips quirking into that familiar little smile that was probably the Vulcan equivalent of a full-out human grin. Damien smiled back in response, brushing his hands vigorously through his mop of blond hair as T'Amona straightened up and made her way back over to the armchair. Before he could get a proper look at the wound he knew would be on her left thigh, she took up the bandages and proceeded to rewrap the injury, hiding it once more beneath the white gauze. She was working quickly, methodically, trying to prevent Damien from seeing it, even though she wasn't aware that he was deliberately attempting to catch a glimpse.

"T'Amona," He called, throwing caution to the wind after she'd finished with the dressing around her thigh and pulled her grey sweats back on. "What's a _yonuk-Vuhlkansu_?"

T'Amona stiffened abruptly, her head snapping upwards so fast that her neck cracked in protest. Her dark cobalt eyes were wide and almost fearful as she stared in disbelief at the Terran boy. Damien didn't even know if he'd pronounced it right, or even if it was a good idea to ask her, since he had literally no clue as to what the words meant, only that San'nuk had called her it and had made her flinch when he did so.

"Where did you hear that?" T'Amona inquired sharply, her voice trembling ever so slightly as she spoke. Damien forced himself to shrug nonchalantly, throwing the covers back so he could get out of bed.

"When I woke up in the night, I heard you talking in your sleep. What does it mean? _Yonuk-Vuhlkansu_. Is it Vulcan or something?"

T'Amona's throat worked as she swallowed thickly, so obviously uncomfortable that she couldn't hide it behind her typical emotionless mask. Damien was starting to feel a bit guilty for bringing this up, but it was too late to take it back now.

"Yes. It's Vulcan." She murmured, but she didn't elaborate as she averted her gaze from his, now severely pissed off at herself, if the growl in her tone was anything to go by. Damien skirted around the bed, tugging his own borrowed shirt straight and chewing on his bottom lip anxiously as he approached the annoyed alien girl.

"Did I… say anything else?" T'Amona spoke after a few seconds of brooding silence, glancing back up at him. Her ebony hair hadn't dried yet, and her fringe was slicked back from her forehead so Damien could see her entire face, including her upswept eyebrows and pointed ears that were usually half-hidden beneath her black locks. She looked tired, he noticed. Really tired, actually, considering the whole "_Vulcans don't need as much sleep_" stuff she mentioned not long ago.

"Not really." Damien shrugged again. "It was all in Vulcan and that's the only one I remember hearing. You might've said something else, but I dunno, I wasn't awake long."

T'Amona relaxed slightly, her shoulders lowering a fraction from their previous tenseness, but Damien could tell she was still on edge.

"So what does it mean then?" He prompted, smiling at her reassuringly. He desperately wanted to know now. He wanted to know why it affected her so much. Was it an insult? It couldn't be anything good, that's for sure. Even for an eleven-year-old Terran boy, that much was pretty damn obvious.

T'Amona surveyed him blankly, her cerulean eyes fixed straight on his chocolate brown ones as though she could see straight into his very soul. It was a little unnerving, to be honest, like she was trying to solve a complicated puzzle just by looking at him.

Then she sighed, heavily this time, and turned her head away from him.

"It's just a term for what I am." She reluctantly confessed. "_Yonuk-Vuhlkansu_ means quarter-Vulcan."

Damien blinked, confused.

"Quarter-Vulcan? But I don't…"

"My father's a half-breed and my mother's a human. You do the maths." T'Amona spat, angry now, and no doubt ashamed at admitting her impure heritage to him. Damien had fully intended to apologise had he not dropped his eyes guiltily and caught sight of something that shocked him to the core, his heart clenching in his chest as it skipped a beat.

At the sound of his sharp intake of breath, T'Amona whipped her head back around to face him and immediately saw what he was staring in horror at.

Gritting her teeth tightly, T'Amona clenched her fists, hiding the fresh scars she'd forgotten to bandage. But it was too late now. Damien had already seen them.

"Oh God," He gasped, all the blood draining from his face, making his freckles stand out starkly against the paleness of his skin. "What the hell _happened_ to you?!"

"That's none of your concern, Terran." T'Amona replied coldly, that damned infuriating impassive expression back on her pretty face. Hot boiling anger swirled in Damien's stomach and surged up his throat like bile. T'Amona was trying to withdraw, leaning back the tiniest amount away from him, waiting for an opportunity to dodge around him and escape, but Damien wasn't about to let her get away that easily.

"Don't you 'Terran' me, T'Amona! Look at your hands! _Look at them!_ Don't you dare try and pretend that…"

"Stop it, Damien! Just drop it and leave it alone!" T'Amona hissed furiously, her sapphire eyes blazing like blue flames. Anyone else would've took a hasty step backwards to put a safe distance between them and the wrath of the Vulcan girl in front of them, but Damien refused to be intimidated. There are some times in life where you just can't sit back and shut up, no matter how suicidal speaking out might seem. Her hands… the state of them… that's just something he couldn't ignore, not even if he tried.

Without hesitation, Damien closed the gap between them and reached out, his eyes fixed almost unblinkingly on T'Amona's, warning her not to move. She glared straight back at him, her fingers twitching in her lap, but she forced herself not to pull away as he gently took her damaged hands in his, cradling them as though they were made of the most delicate glass that could shatter at any moment.

"Oh, T'Amona…" He sighed remorsefully, his eyes starting to brim with tears of sympathy. "Who did this to you?"

T'Amona stared up at him sadly and didn't answer, instead bowing her head in that unnaturally submissive way that Damien couldn't stand, simply because it just wasn't the real T'Amona. His heart wrenched and he dropped her hands to instead cup her face, lifting her head tenderly back up to his level. Those twin orbs of shimmering azure blue were full of pain and humiliation, pleading with him to let her go and leave her be. But he couldn't. He just… _couldn't_.

"Please… please don't shut me out, T'Amona." Damien begged. "You're all I've got left now, and I hate seeing you hurt like this. You don't have to suffer this alone. You've got me. And I want to help you, please, I'm begging you, let me _help_."

He was crying openly now, droplets of warm wetness sliding steadily down his cheeks. There was a bad feeling in his gut that told him he probably already knew who'd mutilated her hands, and the dream Damien and T'Amona had shared had given him one hell of a clue.

Damien felt warm arms circle around his back and embrace him, pulling him into a tight fierce hug against the bruised slim body of the quarter-Vulcan. He flung his arms around her neck and held on for dear life, sobbing into her collarbone as she rocked back and forth gently, hushing him soothingly with as much comfort as she could possibly convey without words. Everything had just caught up with Damien now: The death of his parents, the house fire, T'Amona's injuries… He was only a kid, for God's sake! Just a kid! How was he supposed to deal with things like this?!

"Shh, everything's going to be alright, Damien. Trust me, I know it will." T'Amona murmured softly in his ear, allowing him to snuggle as close to her as he wanted despite the overwhelming tidal wave of emotional transference from the skin-to-skin contact. "You've got to understand that this is so hard for me. I hate this… I hate being so _weak_… I know you want to help me, but right now, the best way for you to help me would be if you just gave me some time. That's all I really need. I've never been so… unbalanced, Damien, and I don't know how long it'll take for me get my head straight, but I promise you that I _will _tell you _everything_ you want to know. Just… wait a little while, ok?"

T'Amona pulled back slightly so she could look Damien full on in the face. He sniffled and lifted his head from her collarbone, regarding her steadily through watery chestnut brown eyes. After a few seconds of silence, he inhaled jerkily and nodded once in acceptance. He believed her, he really did. He couldn't explain why, but he just knew that she wouldn't lie to him. It was instinctive. Even if he didn't know anything about "_Vulcans never lie_" and all that, he bet he'd still feel the same. Damien trusted her absolutely, even though they'd only known each other for what? A day or two now? It might seem strange how much blind faith he had in this alien girl, but he didn't care. Like he'd already said, T'Amona was all he had left.

"Ok." He agreed, leaning in and surprising T'Amona by placing a wet kiss against the soft greenish skin of her cheek. Her eyes widened in shock for a second before they returned to their normal size, warm once more. Her full lips curved into a genuine smile as she rested her head against his and they just sat like that for a few minutes, listening to each other's breathing and feeling two heartbeats pulse together almost in perfect sync.

Much too soon, T'Amona pulled away and helped Damien climb down from her lap, setting him back on his feet. He missed the comfortable alien heat of her body instantly and shivered a little, wiping his tearstained cheeks roughly with the backs of his hands. T'Amona smoothed one scarred hand through his unruly mop of blond hair.

"I have to meditate now." She told him, still smiling fondly. Damien frowned in uncertainty, blinking up at her owlishly.

"What, again? Why?" He asked. T'Amona removed her fingers from his gravity-defying tresses and started rewrapping her hands back in their bandages. Damien tried hard not to stare as she did so, but he couldn't help himself.

"You're a very emotional being, Damien, just like the rest of your race. For me to be in such close contact with you isn't really good for my mentality." T'Amona laughed softly, efficiently fastening the knot on her left hand and moving on to fasten the right. Damien was suddenly struck with the unpleasant thought that maybe when he accidentally intruded on her thoughts when she was asleep earlier, he'd only made things worse for her. She'd been through so much and was so obviously affected deeply by it, so deeply that she revisited it in her nightmares… Damien still had absolutely no idea how he'd seen what he had in her mind, but what if he'd unintentionally messed up the state of her head even more? Oh God, what if he'd hurt her more? His guilt swiftly increased ten-fold, spreading through his limbs like a disease.

"That doesn't explain anything." He forced himself to say.

"Vulcans don't like emotion. And they don't like touching or being touched. It's a cultural thing, as well as a biological one. Don't worry if you don't understand, I'll explain it all to you in good time. I promised you I would."

"Well, you better tell me all this Vulcan stuff as soon as possible, alien girl, because you have no idea how confused I am right now." Damien grumbled, folding his arms in irritation as he reluctantly let the matter drop. He could wait until T'Amona was ready. And besides, considering just how 'unbalanced' she was, he didn't want to keep prodding and pestering her in case she went psycho again like she did in the medbay. Damien had no desire to end up like Captain Kirk had.

T'Amona chuckled quietly to herself, so quietly that Damien wouldn't have heard it had he not been stood directly in front of her.

"What's so funny?" He demanded, his brow furrowing as he frowned up at her. T'Amona smiled, standing up from her seat and brushing gracefully past him.

"That annoyed look on your face, it's just so adorable."

"Hey!" Damien growled indignantly, trying his hardest not to pout. T'Amona looked back at him over her shoulder, her cerulean eyes sparkling with mirth, flashing him a glimpse of white teeth. He could tell she was just teasing him in an attempt to lighten the mood, and it did actually work pretty well, because he found himself grinning straight back at the mysterious quarter-Vulcan alien girl who was rapidly becoming something like an older sister to him.

With a half amused, half annoyed sigh, Damien plonked himself down on the edge of the bed, absently tracing over creases in the bedsheets as he watched T'Amona open a couple of drawers, obviously searching for something. The third drawer she came to was the one she'd found the magnolia candles in yesterday, and now she pulled those candles back out triumphantly, removing the elastic band wrapped around them to keep them all together before she carefully put them back, pushing the drawer shut again with the slightest touch of her fingertips.

Damien was tempted to ask what she was doing, but he didn't need to. T'Amona swung her damp ebony locks over one shoulder and proceeded to plait her hair into one long braid, securing the end with the elastic band she'd just found. He smiled at her even though she was facing away from him, and then he leant over the side of the bed, searching for the pile of burnt and soot-blackened clothes he knew he'd left on the floor.

"Uh… T'Amona?" He called, still leaning as he chewed his bottom lip, his eyes scoping every inch of the carpet below him. T'Amona turned back to him, her plait flicking out behind her as she moved.

"Yes?"

"Our clothes have kinda… gone missing."

* * *

After his little chat with T'Amona, the rest of Jim's day had passed relatively quickly. The second half of Beta shift came and went almost impossibly fast, then he'd finished up a couple more of those goddamn reports crowding his desk before hitting the sack. And then he'd woken up this morning to find that he had literally ten minutes to get a shower, a shave, get dressed and get his ass on the bridge for Alpha shift. How the Hell he managed that was beyond him, but by some miracle he stepped out of the turbolift with just about a minute to spare. He wasn't used to getting up at the crack of dawn (even though they didn't technically _have_ dawns in space, but Alpha shift started at bloody six am! What the hell's up with _that_?!), and since he was Captain now, he knew he'd have to make sure he always woke up early enough to get to his shift on time.

"Good morning, everyone!" Jim grinned as he strode from the turbolift, making for his Captain's chair in the middle of the bridge. When he walked past Uhura and caught her eye, he paused to throw a wink in her direction, which she pointedly ignored. Out of all the women he'd ever met, Uhura had got to be one of the most attractive and the least interested in him. Jim hadn't understood why at first, but when he'd happened to witness the liplock between her and Spock on the transporter pad before they beamed onboard the _Narada_, it was obvious that Jim Kirk wasn't her type of guy.

Nah, she preferred the uptight, emotionless, pointy-eared Vulcan First Officer over the cocky, flirtatious, sleep-with-anything-that-walks Captain. Go figure.

Jim sat down in his chair, giving himself a moment to get comfortable before he leaned forwards slightly with a smile to address the helmsman.

"Mr Sulu, how we doing for time?"

"On our current course, we should arrive at New Vulcan in approximately six and a half days, Captain." Sulu answered promptly, glancing back at him. Jim nodded and settled back into his chair, his fingers tapping gently against the armrests.

"Excellent." He smiled, then turned his attention back towards the gorgeous Uhura, his eyes raking appreciatively up the length of her shapely dark legs. God, she didn't half have a nice pair of legs.

"Lieutenant Uhura," Jim said, resisting the urge to add a "Looking good" after it. "Anything to report?"

Uhura spun around slightly in her seat, tossing her ponytail back over one shoulder as she replied to her Captain's inquiry with an air of annoyance that he knew she used to cover up her grudging respect for him. Yes, granted, she still thought he was an arrogant asshole with an ego the size of a fucking planet, but at least she knew now that he wasn't the good-for-nothing hick from Iowa she'd thought he was back in that bar.

Of course, that didn't mean that she considered him as a friend or anything, but hey, there's time for that. After all, after this trip to New Vulcan, the next thing on the agenda was a five year mission of exploration to wherever Starfleet decided in the next couple of weeks. Who knows, maybe him and Uhura will become friends or something during that.

… But then again, he highly doubted it.

"Everything is as it should be, _Captain_." God, no one could make his title sound like such an insult like Uhura can.

"Have we heard anything from Starfleet?"

"No, we haven't received any transmissions yet, but it is still early, Captain."

Jim opened his mouth to respond, but whatever he'd been about to say never had chance to leave his lips as the turbolift doors slid open and out stepped one of the two Vulcans onboard the USS _Enterprise_, and since Commander Spock was sat at his station behind him, it couldn't have really been anyone else but her.

T'Amona stood there looking as stoically Vulcan as possible, but she kinda didn't pull it off as well as she usually did, due to the fact that she was still wearing Jim's oversized clothes that showed a fair amount of greenish skin that had previously been covered, and her hair was wet and dragged back from her beautiful elfin features into a long plait that lay over one exposed shoulder. If it wasn't for the tapered eyebrows and the pointed ears, at that moment she could've easily passed for a normal human girl.

"Captain Kirk." She demanded, her voice carrying easily across the bridge, which had fallen almost deadly silent as everyone gaped at the not-so-Vulcanlike Vulcan glaring daggers down at Jim with narrowed eyes of sapphire blue.

"Where are my clothes?"

Which, of course, was the worst possible thing she could've said.

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**Ok, I found this awesome website for english to Vulcan translation, but if any of it's wrong, thats not my fault. ^^;**

**"Riyeht-stau! Eshu'a!" - "Murderer! Demon!"**

**"Tev-tor, San'nuk." - "Die, San'nuk."**

**I'm liking the Vulcan language so don't be surprised if there's loads more of it in the next chapters :D**

**I'm thinking maybe the next chapter will be mostly either in Jim or Spock's voice, but who knows XD**

**At least in this chapter I revealed a couple of things about T'Amona and everything, but then I've just gone and thrown a few more mysteries in there hehe, ah well.**

**Review for me please! See ya next time! ^^**


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